Set In Stone
by muhnemma
Summary: Numair's morals and sense of honour lead to pain for both him and Daine. Expect a lot of angst and perhaps a happy ending.
1. Prologue

To anyone reading Verity, I'm still writing it. Expect an update for that soon, although it's about Daine visiting Snowsdale so it won't be the usual fluff.

* * *

Numair paced the floor of his study with jerky steps, his usual catlike grace vanished. Raising his hand, his Gift leaped from his fingers and raced into a large candle. It shivered and burst, spewing wax onto the walls and expensive carpet. The image of Daine as he had seen her only a few minutes before was fixed at the fore of his mind, no matter how hard he tried to dislodge it. Her face had been pale apart from the splatters of blood that spewed from a deep cut in her chest. Healers had swarmed around her prone form, barking commands at their apprentices. Then had come the blessed moment when she took a deep breath, air whooshing into her lungs, and the senior healer had announced in a shaky voice that she would live. Her eyes sought and found his; as she gave him the smallest of smiles, he turned and strode from the infirmary. 

It was _his _fault, the rust of drying blood on his clothes and hands proved that. She had thrown himself in front of the hurrok for _him, _and had received a life threatening gouge for her trouble. If he had been paying more attention, if he had turned a second sooner, Daine wouldn't have had to throw herself in front of him like some sort of grotesque human shield. It wasn't the first time, either. She had put herself between him and a dragon not long after they first met, and had brought Ozorne's wrath upon herself by avenging his 'death'.

It wasn't just that she put herself in danger. Numair was all too aware of the whispers that followed her down every corridor. In becoming his lover she had ruined her reputation, and hardly a day went by without someone calling her honour or integrity into question. Their friends did their best to quash the cruel words and rumours, but it just wasn't enough. It seemed that she was always sacrificing for him, be it her reputation or her very life. Mithros, not long ago she had given up the chance to be a _goddess_. For _him. _

For weeks a small, treacherous voice in the back of his mind had been telling him that their relationship could only damage her beyond repair. Only now the voice wasn't so small and didn't seem as ridiculous as it once had. Hadn't today proved its point? She had almost died because of him. _Leave, _the voice whispered. _Leave now before you break her forever. You've taught her all you can and she has more friends than she can count. She'll find a new love in time, one who won't put her in so much danger. _

With one quick motion he pulled the focus from his wrist and flipped it open. Daine smiled up at him, perfect in detail from the smoky curls to the stubborn chin. Could he live with himself if one day he only had the portrait, if the original was buried in an early grave because he had been careless or shoddy? Behind him the door swung open and he snapped the locket shut on the portrait, throwing it down onto the desk. Turning, he found Daine. The feeble arguments that their relationship wouldn't cause her harm evaporated. She was still deathly pale and swayed slightly on her feet.

"Why are you out of bed?" He demanded. He wanted nothing more than to run across the room and sweep her up into his arms to reassure himself that she was alive. Reminding himself that it was his fault she was in this state in the first place, he remained where he was and clenched trembling hands behind his back.

"I wanted to make sure you're alright," she said, easing herself onto a chair and wincing visibly at the pain. "You left so quickly. Besides, there's something I need to tell you. The healers-"

"You shouldn't be here," Numair snapped, frowning. Once again she was risking her health because of him.

"Nonsense. I can recover just as well in our bed as in the infirmary. I-"

"Daine," he interrupted, only to find that he didn't know what to say. _Now? _His mind shrieked. _You're going to do this now? After she just risked her life for you? _He detested the thought of causing her pain when she was in so much already, but he knew if he didn't say what he needed to now, when he had the resolve, he never would. "I don't think you staying here is a good idea."

Daine rolled her eyes and sighed. "Alright, I'll go back to the infirmary. But I'm only staying there for one night."

Numair took a deep breath and held it before saying, "I didn't mean just tonight. I meant at all."

The look of amused exasperation on her face vanished to be quickly replaced by worry. "What do you mean?" She asked quietly.

"I mean this, us being together, isn't working." His stomach lurched unpleasantly as her eyes widened in shock and pain. "Look at what happened today; protecting me was almost your death."

"We've always looked after each other, Numair," she said, rising and moving towards him.

"I wouldn't be able to live if I was responsible for your death and, if you continue to behave as you did today, I surely will be. Even though it kills me to say it, I don't think we should be lovers."

Daine shook her head. "Even if we weren't lovers I'd still try to protect you. I always have, and you've always done the same for me."

_She's not going to listen, _the voice in his head hissed. _You knew she wouldn't. You have to hurt her to protect her. _Numair had been afraid it would come to this; the prospect of being injured or maybe even killed defending him just wasn't a good enough reason for Daine to end their relationship. Closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the hurt on her face he said, "I'm afraid that I haven't been entirely honest with you. There's someone else; another woman."

A long pause. Then, "Someone-?" Her hushed voice broke before she could finish.

Numair winced. He had thought, foolishly, that this wouldn't be as hard if he couldn't see her; but her voice told him just as clearly as her eyes what he was doing to her. "I've had feelings for her for some time. It was foolish of me to believe that a relationship between us could work. You–you're so young, and I need someone more mature." He _hated_ himself; he was using her deepest fears and anxieties against her. "You can remain here, if you wish, and I will procure new rooms, else you can return to the Rider barracks."

He opened his eyes to be greeted with the sight of tears on his love's cheeks. His arms itched to wrap themselves around her, and his traitor tongue wanted to announce that everything he had just said was a lie. Steeling himself, he rapidly exited the room before Daine could see the tears that gathered in his eyes.

* * *

Onua found him at dawn, slumped at the base of Balor's Needle. She didn't take into account the way he sat, his face buried in his hands, loose strands of hair flying wild. "When I gave you my blessing to take my friend as a lover," she said in a voice that trembled, "I _never_ thought you would abandon her for a Court strumpet within months! You should count your lucky stars that Alanna isn't here or you'd have been castrated by now!" 

Numair looked up at her, face tormented, eyes red and puffy from weeping. "Don't you dare cry!" She snapped. "_You_ have hurt _her_, not the other way around."

"You've spoken to Daine?" He asked quietly. "How is she?"

"Heartbroken, what do you expect!" Onua cried. "I would feel the same if my lover abandoned me for another woman. Half the palace animals were trying to squeeze into her room when I got there."

"I lied," Numair said in a tormented whisper.

"Well that much is clear."

"No, I lied about there being another woman. There isn't one."

Onua snorted. "Has she decided she doesn't want you and now you've changed your mind about Daine?"

"Onua, please," he pleaded, pulling himself into a kneeling position. "I'm not lying. You can use a truth spell if you need to."

She fell silent and Numair knew that she was doing just as he suggested. After a long moment she said quietly, "Why? Why would you hurt her like that if it isn't true?"

"You know what happened today, she was injured protecting me! I can't allow her to continue to be hurt because of me."

Onua stared at him, aghast. "_That's _why?"

"You make it sound stupid," Numair mumbled. "But she deserves to be with someone who won't put her in harm's way."

Growling in frustration, she said, "It is stupid! Did you stop to think that, with or without you, Daine will always be in danger as long as she works for Jon, and she certainly won't stop that."

Numair blinked. He _hadn't _thought of that.

"And as long as she's working for the realm," Onua continued, "_you_ are the best person she could have at her side. There isn't a mage as powerful as you in all the Eastern Lands; no one can offer her the same kind of protection as you."

Numair struggled to his feet, staggering. He had been so busy thinking about the ways he put her in danger that he hadn't stopped to think about the many times he had saved her life. What if he hadn't been there when the bandits shot her in the wing while she was a wild goose? What if he hadn't found her after her run in with the Royal hunters in deer form? What if he hadn't been there when the spidrens captured her in the Divine Realms? "What have I done?" He whispered, horrified.

"You've broken her heart as well as your own," Onua said grimly. "But you can still mend things. Explain and apologise before it's too late to put things right."

Without another word, Numair sprinted past her. The journey between Balor's Needle and his rooms was the most agonizingly long one he had ever taken, but he still didn't have enough time to think of what he would say to Daine. Soon he was pushing open the unlocked door and falling inside their sitting room. To his surprise it was empty. After what Onua said he had expected to find masses of animals, all waiting to bite or gouge him.

"Daine?" He called, moving into the bedroom and finding it empty. A quick search of his study revealed no signs of her. Something else was wrong: not only was Daine not here, but neither was Kitten. Frowning, he moved back into the sitting room in time to see a flustered, red faced Onua burst through the door. "I came as fast as I could," she gasped. "Cloud's gone."

"No," Numair moaned softly. He tried to remain calm, telling himself that perhaps Daine had just needed a ride to take her mind off things. But that still didn't explain Kitten's absence. He hurried back into the bedroom, Onua at his heels. Now he saw what he hadn't when he was searching for Daine: the drawers had been yanked open and clothes were sticking out. Her pack was gone.

"Has she-?"

"It's alright," Numair interrupted before she could voice the awful thought. "I can find her. I have a focus." He strode into his study and headed straight for his desk, where he had set it down. It was nowhere in sight. Numair began to push papers and books off the desk, hunting for the bracelet that would lead him to Daine. After a candle mark of searching both the desk and the room he was forced to accept that the focus was gone.


	2. Luka's Story

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I hope you continue to enjoy it. Just a little note on the timeframe: apart from the flashbacks, this fic takes place eight years after the prologue. There will be a note at the top of every flashback to say when it takes place.

* * *

**Seven and a half years ago.**

Daine trembled, scratching her already bloody hands against the hard bark of the tree she was tied to. She growled, furious with herself for giving these people – if they could be called that – the power of fear over her. One of the bandits leered at her, winking and puckering his foul lips, and Daine looked away. She knew they wouldn't hurt her beyond what they already had just yet. The slave trade was thriving in Scanra and her belly was heavy with child; they wouldn't risk harming the baby and losing the potential gold they could make off selling it. However, the jeers and name-calling and the way they thrust themselves against her left her in no uncertainty as to what would happen to her after she gave birth.

If she could just shape shift she would be out of her bonds and on the way to somewhere safe within a minute. But the pregnancy prevented her from making the change; by her estimation she had more than a month before the baby would arrive, but already she looked large enough to burst. Even if she wasn't hampered by her bulk, she hadn't even the energy to shape herself claws, thanks to being deprived of both food and sleep. Kitten had been put into some kind of enchanted slumber by the bandits' magic man and, although she always snapped at them whenever they got close enough, Cloud wasn't strong enough to take on an entire camp.

For the first time since it was erected, Daine wished she didn't have the barrier that prevented her wild magic from leaking into and tainting her humanity. The fury she felt now was just as powerful as it had been when she hunted down the bandits who murdered her ma, but the magical barrier prevented her from losing herself in her rage completely. If she could be as wild as she had been when she ran with the pack, it wouldn't matter that she couldn't shape shift: her small, human teeth what do as well for the bandits' throats as any wolves'.

_If only there were more of the People here, _she thought desperately. There weren't many animals in the surrounding woods. Enough to overpower the bandits, perhaps, but there were many different species and all of them scared, especially of the magic man who scorched them with his Gift. If only there was something other than their wish to help her to unite them, something that could stir them to fight with the same kind of fury that boiled in the pit of her stomach.

Daine's trembling ceased suddenly, and she blinked stupidly as an idea occurred to her. It was so simple, so glaringly obvious, that she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it sooner. Dipping into her well of magic, she cast a net of copper fire as far through the trees as she could. Every animal stilled as her power fell over them; they twitched feathered and furred heads to one side, listening for something that couldn't be heard with physical ears. With the force of all her magic behind her, Daine cried out to them a message that everything with fur, feathers, claws, wings and hooves could understand. _They're going to steal my young!_ She shrieked. _They're going to steal and enslave my young!_

The forest shook with the fury of the People, and the bandits trembled in fear.

* * *

**Now.**

Numair groaned and turned his face into the pillow as bright sunlight filtered into the room. He pretended to be asleep as the woman slipped from the bed and began to dress. Cracking an eye, he watched as she ran a comb through her hair and pinned it up on the top of her head. Dark hair, curly. Last night, in the dim light of his rooms, she had almost looked like – Numair sighed. He hadn't bedded many women since she left, but every now and then at some royal banquet or ball he would catch the eye of someone who looked something like her, and for a night he could pretend that the last eight years hadn't happened. The illusion never stretched out until the next morning. He would wake and reach out to touch _her_, only to find some stranger in her place. Then he would feel as lonely as he ever had, despite the warm body next to him.

Without casting a look at him, the woman left the bedroom and moments later Numair heard the door that led to the hallway click shut. He knew he wouldn't see her again, at least not in this context. The women who he conducted his brief affairs with were quite often the wives of roaming knights, and both of them knew that their entanglements wouldn't last more than one night.

A knock on the door forced him to leave the bed. Grabbing the nearest pair of breeches that came to hand, he stumbled from the bedroom and through the sitting room. Fully expecting to find that the woman had returned for some trivial belonging she had forgotten, he opened the door. He found Alanna, her face like a storm cloud. He stared down at her, confused. Why was she at his door at the break of dawn? "Get dressed, laddybuck," she said grimly. "We're needed."

Frowning, Numair waved her inside and moved back to the bedroom. While he dressed, Alanna called into him from the living room. "Jon has called a meeting. He says it's urgent, but the only people in attendance apart from their majesties are ourselves and Onua."

Numair emerged from the bedroom, now wearing a shirt and boots. "Did he say anything about why he wanted to see us?"

Alanna shook her head. "Only that we need to be there yesterday."

They exited his rooms quickly and made their way to Jon's parlor, where, according to Alanna, the mysterious dawn meeting was to be held. Once there, a small, yawning page opened the door and stood back with a bow to allow Numair and Alanna to pass by. Jon was slumped, in a most un-regal manner, in an armchair, his face pale and drawn. Behind him, arms folded over her chest, an equally weary expression marred Thayet's beautiful face and Onua, seated on a stool close by, merely looked confused. What caught Numair's attention were the strangers kneeling in front of the king; one a broad man he estimated to be about a decade older than himself, and the other a boy of about seven. Although there seemed to be an air of closeness between the two, Numair doubted that they were father and son; the man was pale and well built whereas the boy was dark and slight.

When the boy turned to survey the newcomers, Numair received a jolt. There was something about his eyes that was achingly familiar, although if his life depended on it he couldn't pin down how. Then the man nudged the boy, murmuring for him to face the king, and the moment was broken.

"You may rise and be seated," Jon said, nodding to the man. Both man and boy stood and made their way to the most inexpensive looking seats in the room. Facing Numair and Alanna, Jon said, "Luka," he pointed at the man, "hails from Scanra, and he comes bearing a most unusual offer."

Numair sat down heavily. What had possessed Jon to entertain a Scanran, a man whose country they were now officially at war with? Seeing both his and Alanna's confused looks, Jon said, "Please repeat your message for the benefit of Lady Alanna and Master Numair."

Luka cleared his throat. "My mistress wishes to help Tortall in the war against Scanra."

"Why has your mistress not come to make this offer herself?" Alanna asked, voice full of skepticism.

Turning his gaze on Alanna, Luka said, "Travellin' is none too safe at the moment, Lady. My mistress has two babes – this'un," here he ruffled the boy's hair, "an' a girl. We decided it'd be best to travel apart. The plan was for us to set off an' then for the mistress an' 'er daughter to follow two days later."

"Why would your mistress want to help us?" Onua asked.

"Ah," Thayet interrupted, a small, wry smile on her face, "now _that_ is the strange part. Master Luka?"

"Ma always helps," the boy said suddenly, staring at the small assembly of people as if daring them to question the honour of his mother.

"Settle down, Rikash," Luka said. "No one's insultin' your ma."

"What did you call that boy?" Numair asked quietly. It had taken a moment for the name to seep properly into his mind. It was a rare name, indeed he had only ever heard it once before, and he couldn't imagine how a small boy in the wastes of Scanra had come to be called it.

Luka looked at him strangely. "'Is name. Rikash."

Alanna laid a hand on Numair's trembling shoulder and stared into his face, eyes full of concern. "Is anything the matter?" She asked.

"That name…" He whispered.

"You see why we called you here?" Jon said grimly.

"I don't understand," Onua said. "What's going on?"

"Could you tell us your mistress's name?" Thayet asked. "Her full name, if you will." Luka looked at her suspiciously, apparently not willing to give away any information that might harm his mistress. "I promise you that we don't mean her any harm," Thayet said kindly.

Apparently believing her, Luka said, "'Er name's Veralidaine, only she don't like bein' called that. An' 'er last name-" he broke off, frowning, "well I've only heard it a couple of times, but it's Sarrasra or Sarrasri, somethin' like that."

Numair felt his breath catch in his throat, and wondered vaguely if his heart had stopped beating altogether. Eight years. _Eight years _she had been gone. He had searched for months after she first left, had pleaded with Thayet to send Rider groups to hunt for her. It was all to no avail; despite the fact that she traveled with a very noticeable dragon, no one they asked had seen her. During his darkest hours, when the animals had fallen into silent grief, he had feared that she had run afoul of bandits or immortals and had been murdered. He had mourned for her, as had her many friends. Now to find that not only was she alive, but she had a child – children! Luka had said she was traveling with her daughter.

There were so many questions he wanted to ask. Where had she gone? Had she been hurt? What had she been doing for the past eight years? Had she married the father of her children? If so, why wasn't he traveling with Rikash rather than Luka? Had she ached for him as much as he had ached for her? Did she still love him, did she even remember him? All the questions rushed up in his throat and choked him.

A strangled cry brought him back to reality. Onua's hands were clasped over her mouth, her eyes wide and shining. Alanna looked as if she had been slapped. Jon gripped his wife's hand, who was supporting herself with shaky arms braced on the back of the chair. In silence, Rikash and Luka stared in confusion at the effect of the latter's statement.

"Your mistress is no stranger to us," Jon said in a voice that shook. "In fact, we have spent the last eight years hunting for word of her."

At once Alanna, Onua and Thayet began to launch at Luka the questions that Numair had been thinking. They wanted to know everything about Daine and her life since she had left Tortall. Numair found himself putting his own pleas for information towards the man in a cracked whisper. "Alright!" Luka said once the deluge of questions died down. "I'll tell you all I can, but there's only so much I know."

After silence had fallen, Luka began his story. "Food started goin' missin' from my pantry. This was fair strange seein' as then I was livin' in a cottage in the middle of the woods. I thought mayhap a bandit had got lost an' was pinchin' my stock, so I waited up one night an' hid in the shadows. Round about midnight I had my thief, an' Gods strike me down if it weren't my old hound! Strange thing was 'e didn't eat it, jus' slipped out the door and ran off into the trees. I followed, quiet like, and watched where 'e went. 'E led me to a woman – well, she weren't more'n a girl back then. Skinny li'l thing, all cut up an' 'er belly big with a babe. Gods, she was a wild thing! 'Er lips went back an' she growled at me – _growled! _Like she was a dog. But then my hound came an' licked my hand an' she – well, all the fight just went out of 'er. She went all limp and didn't even blink when I picked 'er up.

"I took 'er back to my home and cleaned 'er up a bit, put 'er to bed. She spent a month like that, just sleepin' and eatin' enough to keep 'er and the babe goin'. She never said a word. I'd try talkin' to er, but she'd just turn 'er big eyes on me, an' it was like they'd seen every bad thing in the world. I stopped after a while, just kept feedin' an' washin' 'er.

"On Midsummer's Eve I knew it was time for the babe to come, an' she made enough noise then to make up for 'er silence. Screamed and wept like a banshee, she did. Didn't know what to do. I wouldn't 'ave found a midwife in time an' I knew nothin' about birthin', 'cos I've never 'ad a wife. I thought she was goin' to die with all the blood comin' out of 'er. Then at midnight the room filled with this light that could've burned the eyes out my head. Out of it came this beautiful woman, an' she went straight to the girl. Right then I was glad I took 'er in 'cos I knew she was Gods-blessed.

"The girl gave birth to two babes an' the woman fixed whatever made 'er bleed so much. Then she told the girl to live for the sake of the babes, an' turned to me an' told me to care for 'er daughter. The woman went an' the girl looked up at me an' smiled. She thanked me for lookin' after 'er, an' I told 'er she mustn't think of leavin' 'cos I'd promised 'er ma I'd take care of 'er. She told me 'er name was Daine an' said she'd stay an' that was that.

"She called the babes Rikash an' Sarralyn an' we 'ad a namin' ceremony for 'em in the woods with the animals. After she recovered from the birth an' got to be more'n a sack of bones she started to help out: huntin' an' tendin' the garden an' cleanin' an' such. After a year I stopped askin' where she came from 'cos it always stopped 'er smilin'. All I found out was the fool of a man who was the pa of the babes threw 'er over for some other woman, an' she 'ad to leave. She never told me what 'appened between when she left an' when she found me, an' I never found out why she was so cut up when I found 'er.

"When the babes were no more'n two years old somethin' 'appened. Nearest village was raided by bandits, an' those who weren't killed came to us. But the bandits followed them. As soon as Daine saw them she changed – she weren't human anymore. She was a mountain lion or somethin' like that. Ripped out the bandits' throats an' turned into a woman again. I was surprised but not scared. I'd always known there was somethin' special about 'er, see, ever since the night she gave birth."

"Word got round 'bout what she could do, an' the next thing we knew there was some man on our doorstep demandin' that she see the Great Council! They gave 'er a grand house an' gold on the understandin' that she work for them. An' work she did. She took me with 'er to 'er new home an' I looked after the li'luns while she was movin' all over Scanra. Things were alright for a while, though I didn't half worry about 'er always puttin' 'erself in danger.

"Then she heard rumours of war with Tortall. She said that though she 'ad to leave, the people of Tortall 'ad given 'er a home an' work that mattered, an' she wouldn't work against them. But the thing is you don't just leave work for the Great Council. We went on the run. Rikash 'as a strong Gift an' Sarralyn 'as the same kind of magic as Daine so it wasn't difficult to hide. When the war was announced she said she had to help Tortall in any way she could, an' that's when she decided to come here."

When Luka finished, Thayet turned, tears in her eyes, and left the room, seeking the security of the bedroom she shared with Jon. The king stood, murmuring apologies and reassurances that he would return shortly, and followed his wife. Alanna stood and went swiftly to Onua, who wept quietly. Numair wasn't aware of the tears on his cheeks; his mind was working too hard to understand everything he had just heard. Daine had been injured while she was pregnant, and scared enough to take shelter in the woods and growl at the approach of a two-legger. She would have died in childbirth if she hadn't been lucky enough to go into labour on Midsummer, when Sarra could attend to her. A thousand thoughts gnawed at him, a thousand images of wounds and pains that he could have prevented if only he hadn't been so stupid.

There was something else, and from the way Alanna and Onua (who both knew the reason for Daine's departure) stared at him he guessed he wasn't the only one who was thinking it. Was he the 'fool of a man' Luka spoke of who 'threw her over for some other woman'? If Daine had been speaking of him, then there was a very good chance that he was the father of Rikash and Sarralyn.


	3. The Return

**Six years ago**

Luka twisted in his overstuffed, leaking armchair, trying to get comfortable. His blanket tangled itself awkwardly around his legs; with an irritated mutter he snatched it up and threw it on the floor. It was getting warm enough that he didn't need covering at night. In winter it was a different matter, and he had to hide under every spare blanket he could lay his hands on just to keep his teeth from chattering. Daine had frowned and argued that he should take the bed at least every other night, but Luka always refused. The chit was all skin and no fat; a night in the chill air could give her a cold that might kill her.

With satisfaction, Luka thought back over the last few weeks. Daine had begun to work in his small garden, weeding and keeping away birds that might pick at his meager crops while the babes lay in the shade, guarded by a watchful Kitten. After a lot of persuasion on his behalf she had even started to hunt rabbit, and her aim with a bow had astounded him. She could target and shoot her quarry before he even had the time to blink. Although she was still far too skinny for his liking, the muscles in her upper arms and legs were beginning to gain definition and she could now easily complete the simple tasks that used to make her breathless and faint.

Sarralyn and Rikash slumbered peacefully, Kitten snoring quietly at the foot of the cot that he had crafted for the twins with his own hands. The cottage was designed for a man with no family, and so the babes' bedroom was an alcove separated from the rest of the room by a thick curtain. That wasn't enough room for two fast growing children and a dragon who seemed to think she was their sister. He would have to see about building another room onto the cottage, and it would need to be done quickly. Before he knew it, it would be time to bring in the crops, stock up on game and trade with the nearest village before winter came. He wouldn't be able to build it during the cold season, but if he waited until the spring the twins would surely have outgrown their alcove already…

So caught up in his planning, Luka didn't hear the feet padding softly over the wooden floorboards. He didn't notice the slender fingers snatch up the blanket from where it was pooled around his booted feet. His eyes only snapped open when he felt something settle over his chest, and he looked up into smiling, blue-grey eyes. "You should be in bed, chit," he scolded Daine lightly. "You'll catch your death." This was true enough; when he had brought her to his home she had only the clothes she wore, and although she possessed many talents needlework wasn't one of them. Most of her clothes were his own, cut down to fit her much smaller frame. Although the old shirt that served as a nightdress fell to just above her knees, the rest of her legs were bare and even in the dim light he could see the goose pimples that rose.

"I could say the same thing to you," she murmured. "It's bad enough that you won't sleep in your own bed, but to do away with the blanket…" She tucked the blanket around him, leaning in close to make sure that she left no flesh exposed to the air. Face lingering near his, the joking smile she wore began to fade and her eyes rose to meet his.

He wasn't sure how it happened, but he was certain that she initiated it. Other than to steady her if she was faint, apart from their first month together when it had been necessary to hold her to feed and wash her, he never touched her without her express permission. Suddenly her lips were on his, and they were so soft that he wasn't sure that hadn't fallen asleep and slipped into a dream. Before he realised what was happening Daine was in his lap and he was cradling her curly head as they kissed. Her nightwear had been shed and the heat of her bare breasts through his thin shirt made him shiver.

Coming reluctantly back to his senses, Luka pulled away. "Chit - Daine – We can't-"

Her wide eyes rose to meet his, disappointed and pleading. "Please," she whispered, gently pulling his head back down to her. "Please." When in the short time they had known each other had he ever been able to deny her anything? With a groan, he picked her up as carefully as he knew how and carried her to the bed, treading quietly so as not to rouse the babes from their unusually un-fitful slumber.

Although he thought about it many times over the following years of their friendship, Luka could never understand why she came to him that night. Perhaps she had woken from dreams of the man she loved who had left her so broken, and had needed comfort. Perhaps she had simply been lonely. Living alone in the forest, Luka understood all too well loneliness and the craving for the sound of human voice, human touch. Whatever her motivation, there was never a repeat of that night and the only time she mention it was the next morning, when she had pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered, "thank you".

* * *

**Now**

Numair sat on a warm patch of grass, watching the boy that could be his son playing with one of Roald's old toys given to him by Thayet. It was a carved wooden horse with jointed legs that moved. As Numair looked on, the toy rose from Rikash's hands, seemingly of its own accord, and floated upwards. Engulfed by a flame of red so deep that it was almost brown, the toy's legs began to move and it galloped jerkily through the air. Rikash laughed and clapped his hands, following the progress of his creation with clear delight.

"That child has a strong Gift," a voice behind Numair remarked. He turned his head to find Alanna, dressed in a light pair of cotton breeches and a shirt that suited the warm autumn day. He moved his gaze back to Rikash, unwilling to take his eyes off him for too long lest he disappear, as Alanna seated herself next to him on the ground. Neither of them asked the other why they lingered outside when there were many empty rooms and chairs to lounge on in the palace. It had been three days since the arrival of Luka and Rikash. Daine's last missive to her servant, received at supper the previous night, had said she would arrive in the morning. Numair, Rikash and Luka had been keeping a vigil in front of the palace since dawn. Onua, putting the trainee Riders through their paces in a nearby paddock, made a point of coming over to them at every available opportunity, as did Alanna. The royal couple emerged from the palace at every candle mark and lingered near the door.

"How are you feeling?" Alanna asked softly.

"In the space of a day I discovered that not only is Daine alive, but she is returning to us and I might be the father of her two children," he said, smiling mirthlessly. "I feel like I have been hit by a rather large, rather heavy, boulder." His voice dropped to a whisper and he lowered his eyes. "She probably hates me. I wouldn't blame her if she did."

Alanna sighed. "I don't think Daine has it in her to hate. Didn't you once tell me that she wept over the death of a tauros who tried to attack her?"

"That was different. She cried over having to kill a creature that couldn't help acting according to its nature. I broke her heart and drove her from the country. Somehow I think she will feel that I'm less deserving of pity."

"You were trying to help her," Alanna said.

"She doesn't know that. She thinks that I was unfaithful and broke our relationship for the sake of another woman."

"And you're not going to tell her the truth?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Of course I am," Numair said, moving his gaze at last from Rikash to meet Alanna's eyes. "It might be wiser for me not to do anything to disturb her new life, but I'm selfish and I can't live with Daine not knowing that I still love her."

"It's not selfish of you, just mind that you don't hurt her." She stood and stretched her back, hands on hips. "Time to see how the new recruits are faring, I think." Dropping her voice to a whisper, she added, "And watch him." She nodded towards Luka who sat close to Rikash. As if sensing the eyes on him, Luka turned and glowered sourly at Numair. He had overheard a conversation in which Numair voiced his guess that he was the father of Daine's children, and the man had taken against him. It was useless trying to speak to Rikash; every time he tried, Luka appeared and led the boy away.

The toy horse clattered to the floor and Rikash was suddenly on his feet, gazing intently at the royal forest. Against the trees moved two mounted figures, approaching the palace at a trot. In the paddock where the recruits trained, the horses halted in the middle of being put through various maneuvers and dashed as one to the fence that faced the forest. Suddenly Onua was at Numair's side, breathless and wide eyed. "The horses," she gasped. "Is she-?"

The two horses broke into a gallop as Rikash excitedly called out a greeting. He made to run to meet his family, but Luka held him back and told him to have some patience. The only noise that Numair could hear was his own heart pounding in his ears; he wasn't aware of getting to his feet, but suddenly he was standing and straining to see Daine.

A black pony reached them first; its' rider was a young girl with a mass of dark hair and stormy eyes. With a gleeful laugh she jumped into Luka's outstretched arms and kissed his cheek before squirming away to hug her brother. The pony snorted, clearly disgruntled about being ignored. "Oh hush, Shadow," the girl scolded him. Turning back to Rikash she said, "Look what ma got me!" She gestured towards the pony.

Rikash released her, all happiness at seeing his sister evaporating at this great injustice. Numair would have found the look on his face comical if not for the very familiar pony that cantered up to their small group at that moment. Daine hadn't changed much since the day she left, apart from her formerly long hair had been cut to hang just above her jaw. She looked weary and filthy from Mithros knows how many days of travel, but her eyes lit up as she found her son whole and unharmed. Kitten, her scales an eye smarting shade of blue, almost tumbled off Cloud in her haste to reunite with the children. "Safe journey, mistress?" Luka asked.

Daine scowled at him. "I'm no more your mistress than you are a rose petal."

Luka grinned, and it occurred to Numair that it was the first time he had seen the man smile. "Alright then, chit," he said, offering his hand to her. Although Daine certainly didn't need assistance to dismount a horse, she took it and allowed him to help her. Once she was on the floor he ruffled her hair. "It's good to see you two safe. You're forever gettin' into mischief without me to stop you."

"Ma!" Rikash whined. "Why does Sarra get a horse and I don't?"

Luka cuffed him lightly around the ear and said sternly, "That's no way to greet your ma."

Rikash sheepishly came forwards and allowed Daine to sweep him up into a hug. "Little monster," she whispered affectionately. "I'll get you a horse while we're here. Cloud says you're developing too many bony angles for her liking."

The trio of Numair, Alanna and Onua had remained silent during the family reunion, none of them wishing to intrude on the happy moment and none of them sure what to say to the dear friend who they had missed for so many years. Onua lost the small amount of self control that had kept her from flinging herself at Daine the moment she arrived. She stepped forwards, and Daine's eyes rose to meet hers. Setting Rikash back on the ground, she nodded to Luka who led children, ponies and dragon away.

"You-You're hair…" Onua murmured.

Daine brought her hand up to absently touch the thick mane of curls. "It kept getting in the way," she said, smiling weakly.

There was a long moment of silence in which the two women stared at each other. Numair didn't see them move, but suddenly they were hugging each other tightly, Onua sobbing openly while silent tears trickled down Daine's cheeks. Once Onua had calmed down enough to let her go, Alanna hurried forwards and pulled her into a bone cracking embrace that made her squeak. "We've missed you, youngling," Alanna said, pulling away and blinking rapidly. "Although you're not such a youngling anymore."

Daine lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry I-"

"No," Alanna interrupted. "There's too much to do and say for apologies. Now," she slung an arm around Daine's shoulders, "I know a couple of monarchs who will be _very _happy to see you."

The three women turned and began to walk up the slope that led to the entrance of the palace. As they passed, for a brief, heart stopping moment Daine's eyes met Numair's. Then her gaze slipped away, and she turned to smile at Alanna as she said something. For a moment he had forgotten that she didn't know he loved her; he had expected a happy reunion, to enfold her in his arms and kiss her. He had forgotten that she probably thought he had a wife or a regular lover. Heart sinking, he followed his friends to the palace.


	4. Confrontation

**One year ago**

Luka attempted to stir up the pitiful flame in the grate. Any moment now Daine would be returning with the fruits of her hunt, and he wanted to have something hot enough to cook the meat on by then. The problem was that there had been an awful lot of rain recently and finding any decent firewood that wasn't damp was proving to be an almost impossible chore. Seeing his trouble, Kitten hopped down from her place on a wooden chair and trotted towards him. She gave a strangled croak and the fire roared into life, causing Luka to topple backwards off his chair. "Will you ever stop scarin' me?" He muttered, regaining his feet and rubbing the place on his backside where he expected to have a rather spectacular bruise the next morning.

Kitten whistled ruefully, her blue scales beginning to acquire a tint of grey as her efforts went unappreciated. Sighing, Luka gathered the dragonet up in his arms and began to tickle her belly by way of apologising and thanking her. As he did he cast a quick glance over her shoulder, checking to see if the children were okay. Sarralyn had abandoned her human form in favour of a cat's warm fur and she was curled up tightly at her brother's side. Rikash mumbled lightly to himself under his breath, attempting to keep the spell that created warmth alive. As they had found an abandoned cottage to take shelter in, Cloud and Hem (the gelding Daine had purchased for him while she was still in the service of the Great Council) had been brought inside so that their presence didn't give away that their masters were close by.

Rikash abandoned his spell and reached instead for his pack, where another blanket could be found. Wrapping himself up he cast a sidelong look at Luka, who didn't miss the glance and puzzled over it. After a minute of silence and what seemed like several failed attempts to speak, Rikash said, "Luka, are you our pa?"

Luka almost dropped Kitten. He squeezed her too tightly and she squealed indignantly. He set the dragon on the floor; when he straightened he found Rikash regarding him intently and Sarralyn, now unfurled, watching him her feline head cocked to one side in interest. "No," he said slowly. "I'm not your pa."

"Then who is?" Rikash asked without missing a beat.

Luka shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "I don't know. Never met the man."

"But ma knew him," Rikash said more to himself than anyone else.

"Of course your ma knew him," Luka said impatiently. "You wouldn't be 'ere if she didn't."

"Why isn't he here?"

"'E – Your ma – They 'ad a fallin' out a long time ago."

"What do you mean?" Rikash asked sharply.

"'E 'ad a fight with your ma and after it she 'ad to leave 'er home. Now don't you go askin' 'er about it! It'll just get 'er upset." Luka said, dropping into his seat and turning his back on the children before they could ask anything else. It certainly wasn't his place to tell them about their father, and if Daine hadn't said anything to them then she clearly didn't want them to know.

Rikash slipped into a sullen silence that troubled Luka. Risking a glance, he found anger written on the little boy's face. He doubted very much that it was refusal to speak that had annoyed him. Both of the children were protective of their mother, but Rikash fiercely so. Despite his young age, when Daine worked for the Great Council and over amorous men harassed her or others insulted her and Rikash witnessed it, quite often he flung spells or tiny fists at them before Daine saw them off with claws and fangs. A man who had upset her enough to drive her from her home was clearly a target for his anger, even if that man was his father.

* * *

**Now**

"You're offering your services as a spy?" Jon asked, quirking an eyebrow. They – Daine, Jon, Thayet and Alanna – were in a small room, seated on stools and chairs.

"Could you ask for a more perfect spy?" Daine said, a small grin appearing. "I know the whereabouts of most of the clan leaders, and no one will suspect a cat or a mouse. All you need to do is decide who you want to send me after."

"You're certain about this?" Alanna said gravely, leaning forwards to survey her. "You'll be putting yourself in great danger."

"I've been in great danger for a long time now. All I ask," her eyes flicked towards Jon, "is that my children and Luka have a safe home here while I'm gone."

"Of course," Jon said immediately. "But we need to think about this for a while. You've only just come back, we don't want to lose you too soon."

* * *

Daine grinned at Onua, who noticed and smiled sleepily back. It was well past the midnight hour but the two women still talked and sipped their wine. A small gathering had been held in the rooms Daine had been allocated in honour of her return, with the royal couple, Alanna, Onua, Buri, Sarge, Luka and the children in attendance. Numair, Daine had tried desperately hard not to notice, was made conspicuous only by his absence. Onua stayed on after everyone else left, insisting that Daine tell her everything she had done since her sudden, rapid departure. 

"What will you do?" Onua asked, her voice slightly slurred by the spirits she had consumed. "After you've done whatever Jon decides you need to, I mean. Will you stay here?"

Daine stared into her crimson wine, pondering the question that she had dwelled on since leaving Scanra. Tortall was her home, and she had missed it desperately during her absence. But seeing him today left her in no doubt that the pain Numair had caused still ached every bit as fiercely as her longing to remain in the realm she felt she belonged in. Still, dragging her children back to a rootless existence of running and hiding in Scanra to spare her discomfort when they could have a stable home here was selfish beyond words. If she worked hard enough, if she decided to remain in Corus then she would never have to see Numair and whichever court beauty he had married.

"It would be good for Sarralyn and Rikash," she said slowly. "It's not fair for me to keep dragging them all over the place. I couldn't leave Luka, not after all he's done for me, but as long as there's meaningful work he'd be content here. As for me," she looked up at Onua, smiling, "if there's a place for me in the stables I'll stay."

Onua straightened in her seat, looking thrilled. "Of course there's a place for you! It'd be a dolt of a horsemistress that turned a horse-hearted away."

"I'll have to talk it over with Luka first," Daine put in quickly, not wanting to raise her friend's hopes only to have to dash them later. "But I'm sure that-"

"Mama?" A small figure moved in the doorway of Daine's temporary bedroom. Sarralyn tottered forwards in a nightdress that was too big for her, her mane of dark hair ruffled and her eyes struggling to stay open. "Mama?" She called again uncertainly, blinking against the bright light that stung eyes that had only recently flickered open from the darkness of sleep.

"I'm here, sweetling," Daine said, holding out a hand to the sleepy child. Sarralyn stumbled forwards into the always welcoming arms of her mother, and Daine couldn't help but smile as the girl tiptoed to press her face against her hair. The importance of scent was something that Daine and her daughter, who could both shape their noses to those of a wolf or a hyena, understood well. Scent could alert them to an approaching enemy, or lead them to long sought after prey. The scent of her hair, soap and pine leaves and something that was uniquely Daine, was always a comfort to Sarralyn, especially during the long hours of darkness that always held the most danger for the family. "What's the matter?" She asked softly. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Sarralyn shook her head, making curls jostle and fall into her face, obscuring frightened features. "I woke up and couldn't find you."

Daine pressed a kiss against her forehead and smoothed the loose hair away, allowing her to look fully into eyes that were still anxious although the need for panic had passed. "I'll be along in a minute, just let me say goodnight to my friend. Don't take up too much of the mattress." Somewhat reluctantly, Sarralyn nodded and disappeared into the bedroom.

Onua watched her go, and Daine was happy to note that there was a spark of affection in her friend's eye. Her children had apparently endeared themselves to many people since their arrival in Corus, but Onua was particularly taken with Sarralyn, probably because before the young girl introduced herself to anyone at the palace she had befriended the horses. "You're sharing a bed?" Onua asked, puzzled. "I'm sure Jon could have found you separate ones."

Wincing, Daine tried to ignore the lancing pain of guilt that settled through her chest. No doubt Jon would have given them a room each if she'd requested it, but the children would have been deeply unhappy with that arrangement. Years on the run meant that quite often they'd had to share cramped quarters, and more times than she cared to count she had fallen asleep with Sarralyn and Rikash curled up on either side of her, Luka standing guard over them all. On the odd occasions where they had managed to obtain a bed or pallet each the children had woken up, tears streaming down their cheeks, from nightmares where their mother had been snatched away from them. "We've had to share bedrolls for so long now that it's strange for them when I'm not there," she said, trying to ignore the sudden mingled pity and sadness she saw on her friend's face. "It's strange enough for them not to have Luka nearby; they'd hate it if I wasn't."

Onua's eyebrow shot up. "I thought Luka was your servant, not your lover."

Blushing a deep shade of crimson, Daine said, "He's neither. We were lovers _very _briefly a _very _long time ago, but never since. And as for him being my servant, it's ridiculous. He says that most folk have filthy minds and they'll only think one thing about an unwed woman traveling with a man. When he tells people that he's my servant we still get gossip, but not as much as when he doesn't."

"He seems to really care about you," Onua said with clear approval.

Daine smiled. "He does," she said softly. "And the children. I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't found me and taken me under his wing." She rose from her seat and Onua followed suit, stifling a yawn behind her hand. "We'll talk more in the morning," Daine promised.

"If we don't sleep past noon because of all this late night talking," Onua said wryly.

Daine laughed. "No, you're always up with the sun although I can't imagine why because you bite off the head of anyone who speaks to you before mid morning."

Onua's grin was almost predatory. "The trainees have to be kept on their toes somehow." At the door, she turned and swept Daine into a brief but fierce hug. "It's good to have you back," she whispered. "Don't go leaving us again." With a final glance behind, she hurried from the room.

Turning, Daine surveyed the room. Empty glasses littered every free surface, punctuated by the occasional piece of discarded fruit or pastry crumbs. Her body demanded that she go to bed; hours of riding followed by a whole day of renewing old friendships had left her exhausted both emotionally and physically. She wanted nothing more than to sink onto a soft mattress and recharge for what was certain to be an equally tiring day that would being in mere hours. But the mess would still be present in the morning, when she would probably be even less inclined to clean it up. Sighing, she got to work.

An armful of empty bottles hampered her when the soft knock at the door came. Most likely Onua, she thought, come to check that she hadn't run away. It wasn't a bitter thought, she could hardly blame her friends for doubting her promise that she would stay. She knew she was lucky to still have friends here at all after disappearing for eight years; the least she could do was forgive them some uncertainty. Shifting the bottles, she managed to free a hand to open the door. When it swung open, however, she didn't find herself looking into the eyes of a K'miri horsemistress but at the chest of a _very _tall mage.

"Master Salmalin," she said softly, horrified to hear her voice crack. She cleared her throat and mentally cursed herself; she would not be upset, not after so long. Ignoring the sudden hammering of her heart and the awful, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she said, "It's a late hour for visitors."

Numair stared down at her through the gloom of the unlit corridor, his gaze disconcertingly intense. "May we speak for a moment?" He asked, clearly ignoring her last comment.

Daine shifted uncomfortably. She knew she would have to face him at some point, but she didn't want to have to do it after such a draining day. Horrible visions of her breaking down into tears in front of him flashed through her mind. "It's late. Your wife will be worried."

"I'm not married."

"Your lover, then."

"I have none."

Sighing, unable to think of another suitable excuse at such short notice, Daine stood aside to let him pass. He did so quickly, as if afraid that she might change her mind given half the chance. Once inside he looked around, surveying the chaos left in the wake of the party. Seeing the bottles in her arms he asked, "Would you like some help?"

She set them down and turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. "No thank you. I'll finish after you leave. What do you want to speak to me about?"

For someone who had been so keen on talking he seemed awfully reluctant to begin. He fidgeted, picked up a glass that had toppled onto its side and set it right. Daine bit back a yawn; her mind was too tired to cope with a visit from Numair, especially when the children were waiting for her. Eventually he blurted, "I know you hate me."

She shook her head, slightly shocked by this sudden outburst. "I don't hate you." _And why would you care if I did? _She added silently.

"You should," he said quietly, almost sternly. "I'm sorry for hurting you."

Her stomach twisted. Had it come to this already? "Master Salmalin, if you have to talk about this can we do it at another time? It's-"

"Daine," he interrupted, stepping forwards and grasping her by the elbows. "Please don't speak to me like there was never anything between us; it might kill me." His eyes bored into hers, as if searching their stormy depths for something. Although she wanted to pull away, wanted to escape the hold of the man who had hurt her so much, Daine found that she couldn't move. "I've waited eight years to say this," he continued, "I can't wait a moment longer. I lied when I said that I was in love with another woman. There was never anyone else but you. I was so scared that our relationship would hurt you in some way, that you would be mortally wounded in the course of protecting me. That's why I said what I did. Onua found me and made me realise that I was wrong, but when I tried to find you, you were gone. I was _never _unfaithful to you and I _never _stopped loving you, not for a second."

If Numair hadn't been holding her up, Daine would have fallen to the floor. She had been expecting an awkward apology, perhaps, or an offer of friendship, but not this. How could she have prepared herself for something like this? Her frightened, dazed mind seized on one thought: _He's lying. _If he was telling the truth, then the last eight years need never have happened. She needn't have left Tortall. She could have avoided the horror of having to work for the vile, vicious men on the Great Council of Scanra. Sarralyn and Rikash could have had something that she never had when she was a child: a father. No, he _had _to be lying. She couldn't have thrown away the last decade of her life for nothing.

But why? What possible reason could he have for lying? Perhaps he had no one to share his bed with, and thought to renew their relationship as lovers for the night. A small part of her, the part that had never really left Tortall, that wasn't tainted by bandits, vicious Scanrans or years of hiding, riled against the unfairness of this. Numair may have hurt her, but he wasn't a cruel man. He was far too honourable to speak of love to persuade her into his bed.

"Daine?" Numair crouched slightly to peer into her eyes. "Daine, are you-?"

She pulled herself roughly from his grasp and stumbled backwards, shaking her head. "You're lying," she whispered.

He followed her, reaching out to take her hands. "Daine-"

"You're lying!" She shouted. "If you're not, then-" She shook her head again, tears now beginning to form in her eyes. "Goddess, if you're telling the truth then what have I done to my children? I've taken them from their da and put them in danger when it wasn't needful." The words had tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

She heard his sudden intake of breath. A long moment of silence passed. Eventually he spoke, and his voice was quiet, almost awe filled. "So it's true then? I'm Rikash and Sarralyn's father?"

Slowly she nodded. In a voice barely more than a whisper she said, "Yes."

Neither of them had noticed the small figure emerging from the bedroom, roused by his mother's distressed cry and the hushed voice of a stranger. Rikash arrived in time to hear that the stranger, this man who was clearly the cause of the tears on his ma's cheeks, was his father. Luka had told him that his pa had upset his ma, made her leave her home. Now here he was, trying to do it again. Letting out a small cry of anguish, he launched himself at the man, pummeling his thighs with tiny fists and scorching him with his Gift.

"Rikash, no!" Daine cried as Numair uttered a short, sharp yelp of shock. Daine swooped down and grabbed the boy by the wrists, trying to pull him away without hurting him as he writhed and shouted. The door that led to the other bedroom burst open and Luka ran out, his blonde hair disheveled and wearing only a pair of loose breeches. His eyes fell on Numair and his face contorted with rage. "You!" He bellowed.

Charging forwards, Luka caught the mage in a fierce grip and began to drag him towards the door. "Out! Now!" He roared. Spinning him around, he pushed Numair from the room and slammed the door in his face, drawing the lock before he could get back in.

"Ask Onua or Alanna!" Numair cried from outside. "Ask them! They know I'm telling the truth!"


	5. Truth

**Four years ago**

Daine glided through the window, shedding feathers and wings in favour of human limbs as she hit the stone floor. She stretched, groaning as the aches from her long journey began to settle over her like a lead cloak. The rebellious clan leader had been a tough fight to say the least, and then to top it all the Council had demanded an immediate report. Then the long journey home, to the children and to Luka. As soon as she had reassured her small family that she was alive and in one piece she would be collapsing into bed, before Luka had the chance to force feed her a three course meal and a healing broth.

Automatically her hand reached for the robe that always waited for her after a trip. Instead of fabric her fingers met hard wood, the back of the chair. A quick glance at the floor told her that it hadn't slipped off. Daine frowned. Luka _never_ forgot it; she could return to find her home a pile of rubble and the land on fire, and still a clean, fresh robe would be waiting for her somewhere nearby.

"Looking for something?" A voice asked from the doorway. Daine spun around, hands automatically coming up to cover her are chest. A familiar but very unwelcome figure smirked at her. Ranulf leaned against the wall, a purely predatory grin stretching his lips as he swung the missing robe casually in one hand. He was the leader of a small but powerful clan and was as loyal to the Council as his ambition allowed. Like many of the men Daine had been forced to work with since her arrival in Scanra, he kept up a constant stream of mockery of her abilities and on more than one occasion had attempted to persuade her into his bed.

"Give me that. _Now." _She demanded.

He tutted quietly. "It's a wicked tongue you have in that head of yours. That's no way to speak to a guest."

"You are not now, nor will you ever be, a guest in my home," she said through gritted teeth. "You are an unwelcome intruder. Now give me that robe."

He extended his hand, holding the robe out to her. Daine narrowed her eyes at him. To get the robe she would have to bare herself to him, and she was certain that he wouldn't have the good grace to look away. But the only other option available to her was to stand naked and vulnerable before him, and she refused to do that for a second longer. She reached out to snatch the robe, but he was the slightest bit faster than her. He grabbed her wrist and spun her around quickly, forcing her against the wall as he pressed himself into her. "Without your faithful hound at your heels you will be far more obliging," he grunted.

Daine called on the first weapon she could think of. Not thinking of one animal in particular but an amalgamation of predators, she shaped her nails into wicked claws and lashed out. She caught him in the chest and he cried out, staggering backwards to fall to the ground. Daine was faced with a choice: run or continue to fight. She chose to fight, hoping to impress upon him a lesson he would never forget.

Striding towards where he lay, she positioned herself over him and leveled her claws at his throat. Ranulf managed to free a small dagger from his belt and slashed blindly. Daine was vaguely aware of metal biting into her inner thigh, hot blood trickling down to her ankle, as she coldly wrested the blade from his hand and pressed it to the place where his pulse hammered. "You touch me," she hissed, "you even _look _at me again and I slice you open from here to your belly. Understand?"

"The Council," Ranulf gasped. "They would not tolerate-"

"Your death? Do you really think you're that important?" She sneered. "Who do you suppose they value more? A spy and assassin it's almost impossible to detect or the pitiful leader of a worthless clan? _You _can be replaced."

"Bitch," he spat. Daine increased the pressure of the blade against his throat, pressing the sharp tip down hard enough to draw a droplet of crimson. "Alright," he gasped. "I won't come near you again. Not that I'd want to."

Daine quickly stepped away, watching Ranulf warily as he regained his feet and staggered to the door. Scooping the robe up from the floor, she shrugged into it and followed him from the room, determined to see him leave the house with her own eyes.

She didn't notice the trembling Sarralyn crouched behind an armchair, tears coursing down her cheeks.

* * *

**Now**

Numair buried his face in the cradle of his hands as he sank into a chair. He marveled at his own idiocy. He never should have visited her tonight, mere hours after her arrival. It was too much too soon, paralyzing information that would have floored him had he been the one to hear it. He could hardly blame Luka for throwing him from the room, although at the time he had been so furious that only the thought of Daine's reaction prevented him from using his Gift on the man. Now he was almost grateful, thankful that she had someone who would tackle a black robe mage to protect her.

Ashamed, he swiped at the hot tears before they could spill from his eyes. In all honesty, what had he expected? For Daine to say that she believed him and forgave him? For professions of love and a welcome into her arms? Perhaps he had spent so long dreaming about the blessed moment of reunion that his view of reality was becoming skewed. Broken trust had been cemented by years of hardship; he couldn't expect to erase that in the space of a night.

When the knock at the door came he was reluctant to open it. It was likely that one of his friends had heard about the encounter with Daine and wanted to offer him comfort he didn't deserve. Then it occurred to him that it might be Luka, and he welcomed the thought. Perhaps the man could knock some much needed sense into his thick skull. When he opened the door, however, he didn't find Luka, Jon, Alanna, or any of the other people he had expected. He found the person he had hoped to see most, even though he knew he had no right to.

Daine looked utterly dazed. "I saw Alanna," she said slowly, "then Onua. Then I went back to Alanna again and she started snarling at me. The Lioness with a bad temper near morning; some things never change."

"Daine," he said, voice full of concern. She was acting so strangely, so unlike the woman he had spoken to less than a candle mark before. At the sound of her name she looked up, and he saw that her eyes glittered with unshed tears. She swayed and Numair lunged forwards to catch her. To his surprise, not only did she allow him to but she sagged against him. He brought her inside, kicking the door shut behind them, and set her down carefully in the chair he had recently vacated.

"What's wrong?" He asked, kneeling in front of her and gazing intently into her eyes. "Please, whatever it is, you can tell me." The tears finally brimmed over and raced thick and fast down her face, falling into her lap. "Don't cry," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Please, magelet-" The old name had tripped off his tongue without his permission, and he instantly regretted its use as Daine began to sob openly.

"They told me," she said between gasps of air. "Alanna and Onua – they told me you were telling the truth. I'm _so _sorry."

"Daine, no," he cried, horrified. "You have nothing to apologise for."

"How can you say that?" She demanded. "I left without telling anyone where I was going, and I stayed away for years. I stayed away even after I had the children – _your _children – because I was selfish enough to want to avoid seeing you with another woman. You should hate me, not the other way round."

Numair lifted her from the seat, meeting no resistance. He gathered her up in his arms and sprinkled her face with kisses, catching the fresh tears that spilled from her eyes. "I gave you no reason to stay. I told you to leave or I would. And I could never hate you," he shook her gently for emphasis. "_Never._" He paused, torn between his desire to cause her no further pain and his need to tell her how he felt. In the end the need won out and he added softly, "I love you."

He wasn't sure whether it was he who moved first, or Daine, or both of them but suddenly they were kissing. He had imagined this kiss in more than a hundred dreams, whilst in the arms of a dozen different women. His mind had never been able to recreate the softness of her lips, the way she tasted, no matter how much he longed to. Now it was as if he had never been absent from those lips; eight years of separation melted away as they embraced. They broke away gasping, Daine's cheeks still damp with tears. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to-"

Daine shook her head. "Please don't wish it away."

Whispered reassurances that he would never do such a thing faded as their lips met again. They were being guided – again, Numair didn't know who by – to the door that opened onto his bedroom. It seemed that he barely had time to breathe before they were lying on his bed, locked in a tight embrace. Realising where they had come to so soon he drew away. "We shouldn't, Daine, not so quickly."

A hot blush burned its way across her cheeks. "I don't want _that_," she said, embarrassed. "Not yet. It's just – I want – I don't know," she sighed, finishing with a helpless shrug. Numair wasn't sure he could put into words exactly what he wanted, either. He didn't want to do anything to make Daine feel like he only wanted her to share his bed for a night, but he couldn't stop touching her. He needed to see that she was whole and uninjured, and reassure himself that she wasn't an apparition. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he said, receiving a nod of understanding and consent.

First came the boots. Numair pulled them off and let them fall to the floor with a solid thump before stripping off her stockings. He pressed a kiss to the arch of each small foot and then lowered them carefully – almost reverently – onto the mattress. Her breeches came next; he slipped his hands beneath her hips and gently urged her to arch upwards, allowing him to slide the loose material from her thighs. The breeches were tossed unceremoniously aside as slender legs, an expanse of flesh that he needed to reacquaint himself with, demanded his attention. A row of ardent kisses began at her ankle. At the back of her knee he couldn't help but dart his tongue out, startling a wet laugh out of Daine as he tickled the sensitive area. When he reached her thighs his kisses once again became serious. High on her right leg his adoring lips found a line of toughened skin; a scar, most likely caused by a blade. He couldn't imagine how she came to be injured in this particular place, and he shut his mind off abruptly before his imagination could conjure horrific possibilities. Questions would come later; he wouldn't ruin the moment by recalling painful memories.

The buttons of her shirt yielded easily beneath Numair's long fingers. Once that garment had been discarded he made up his mind to remove no more. Breast band and loincloth remained untouched as he kissed the new territory, mourning silently over the new scars and markings he found there. When Daine began to tug at his clothes he obliged and stripped down to his own loincloth, rolling onto his side and pulling her against him. His arms went around her waist and held her close to him, his lips resting against the top of her unfamiliarly short hair.

Numair knew that this peace couldn't last long. There were so many things to talk about, so many questions to ask; he was certain that Daine would be shedding more than her fair share of tears over the next few weeks, as would he. But the silence and comfort was shattered even sooner than he had anticipated by a hammering on the door. Before he could do so much as raise his head the intruder had flung the door open and his heavy footsteps hurried across the sitting room.

Luka came to a sudden halt in the door way. As his eyes fell on Daine and Numair his face first became blank, then twisted with rage. Without another word he turned on his heel and left, leaving Daine to cry after him.


	6. Unwelcome Departure and Arrival

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, I really do appreciate it. **GreyKitten **– although it was part of your review for _Verity, _thank you very much for my bunny. I shall call him Bert. I hope this chapter will go some way to explaining why Luka is so protective of Daine, and why he dislikes Numair so intensely.

* * *

**Seven years ago**

Despite the distance that separated them, Luka could hear the noise as clearly as if Daine stood at his side. Soft sobs muffled by a pillow, blanket or knuckles that were white with tension. It was enough to drive him out of his mind. Not because the sound grated on him or prevented him from snatching a few hours of much needed sleep, but because it was a constant reminder that he could do nothing to soothe her. Having lived on his own since he was little more than a boy, he found that he felt awkward around people and had little idea of what to say. Even if he did find some hidden wellspring of elegance, or managed to use his rough words to calm and comfort her, it wasn't his place.

His firm conviction that he was unable to offer any kind of comfort didn't prevent him from sitting up listening to her weep night after night, aching to help her. Exactly why her sorrow caused him so much pain was something of a mystery to Luka. After all, she was a slip of a girl who barely spoke and quite often couldn't support her weight on her thin, shaking legs. During their first meeting she had seemed almost feral, and she had disturbed his quiet life with two shrieking babes. But although he might grumble at her about it from time to time, it was always in jest. In all honesty, he _liked _that the seemingly eternal silence of his former life had been shattered, and if Daine took the babes and left it would cause him more pain than he would ever admit.

At the close of every night he would fall asleep with the words of the beautiful woman, the goddess, echoing in his mind. Hadn't she demanded that he care for her daughter, and hadn't he agreed? What would she say now if she could see him sitting here, doing nothing as Daine broke her heart in the next room? He doubted that she would see it as a fulfillment of his promise.

A new sound rose to meet Daine's quiet sobs; a low, mournful whistle that seemed to spread through the cottage, sticking to Luka and weighing him down like tar. After what felt like hours of being frozen in place, the long whistle ended to be replaced by a series of sharp, frantic clucks and whistles. Luka realised that despite Daine's best attempts to muffle the sound of her weeping, Kitten had woken and was now trying to comfort her ma in the only way she knew how. Now he didn't have a choice; he had to calm both of them before they woke Rikash and Sarralyn and the whole house started crying.

He rose and hurried to the cottage's one bedroom. Daine sat on the bare, wooden floorboards, forehead resting against the foot of the bed as she weakly tried to calm Kitten with one hand. Luka scooped Kit up and held her firmly in the crook of his arm, eliciting an outraged squawk. It was the first time he had touched the dragonet and somewhere in the back of his mind he marveled at how soft her scales were beneath his fingertips. But he had little time for wonderment. "Go an' sit with Sarralyn an' Rikash," he said in a low murmur. "Look after 'em if they wake up an' start cryin'. I'll see to Daine." Kitten gave an anxious whistle of protest, but followed her orders as soon as Luka set her back down. She loved the twins like siblings, and took her duty towards them very seriously.

Luka crouched next to Daine, who wiped her red, swollen eyes rather more viciously than was necessary. Pulling a crumpled but clean handkerchief from his back pocket, he arrested the movement of her hand and pressed the fabric into her fingers. "Thank you," she whispered, burying her face in the handkerchief as if she wanted to hide in it rather than dry her tears. "I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry."

"Don't be daft," he growled. "As if a little chit like you could rouse a great bear like me." Daine gave a watery laugh, and Luka's heart swelled with pride that he had managed to elicit a chuckle from her, albeit a weak one. He didn't want to risk losing that tremulous smile, but he had to if he hoped to put an end to the weeping he listened to night after night. "Why are you cryin'?" He asked gently.

As he guessed, what little happiness she had disappeared to be replaced by a heavy sigh. He expected her to shirk the question with a vague answer or to ignore him altogether, but to his surprise she said, "It's a long story, and I'm not sure where to begin."

"Mayhap you should tell me in the mornin'. You look like you're for bed." This was true enough; she had been awake since dawn the previous day, tending the babes and completing whatever small household tasks she could manage in her weakened state. Luka didn't know much about sickness and healing, but he knew that if she ever hoped to look like anything more than a sack of skin and bones she would need rest. Daine nodded her agreement and she tried to rise to her feet, using the bed as support. Luka hurried to aid her, wrapping an arm around her and deploring that he could feel her ribs so clearly through the oversized shirt she used as a nightdress.

As he lowered her carefully onto the mattress, a thin wail tore through the air. Either Sarralyn or Rikash had woken, and that meant that the other would be awake and crying within moments. Daine sighed and attempted to get back to her feet, but Luka pushed her firmly back onto the bed. At her puzzled look he said, "You rest. I'll calm the babes an' get 'em back to sleep."

She shook her head, dark curls tumbling into her pale, drawn face. "I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not askin', I'm tellin'. It won't do 'em any good havin' a ma who's too tired to stand on 'er own feet."

At any other time Luka knew she would have argued. But she was truly exhausted, and crossing the chilly room to calm two wailing babes in her current state must have seemed an almost impossible task. She nodded and thanked him weakly before collapsing onto the thin pillows, her eyes already beginning to close. Luka gently pulled the blanket from beneath her prone body and covered her with it, hoping that he hadn't left any skin exposed to the cold air. "Good night, chit," he murmured before moving away.

* * *

**Now**

Daine forgot all sense of modesty. Yanking the sheet from Numair's bed, she hastily wrapped it around her near naked form and ran after Luka. Numair lay where he was for a moment longer, his tired mind trying to wrap itself around what had just happened. After the revelations of the night and his reunion with Daine, the added confusion of her disappearance to follow an intruder was almost too much for him to comprehend. His frozen state didn't last more than a few seconds, and then he was out of bed yanking on his breeches to chase after her.

When he stumbled out into the corridor he found it empty but for a yawning servant carrying a jug of steaming water. Instinctively his legs took him to the rooms where Daine, Luka and the children were lodged; it seemed unlikely that Daine would go anywhere else in such a state of undress. Turning onto the hallway where they were located, he realised that his guess had been correct. Two voices were raised in argument: one feminine, alternately pleading and angry, the other male and with a Scanran accent, furious.

The door to Daine's rooms stood open and Numair hastened inside. She stood in the middle of the sitting room, trembling arms fighting to hold the sheet up. Luka was nowhere in sight, but his voice rumbled from an open doorway. "There's nothin' to think about," he growled. "I'm not stayin' an' that's that." He emerged from his room, a large pack slung over one shoulder. Numair realised that he must never have unpacked after his arrival for him to be ready so quickly.

"_Why_?" Daine asked, her voice soft and desperate. "I don't understand." She gripped his elbow to prevent him from reaching the door, and he glared angrily at her small hand before shrugging her off roughly, causing her to stumble and almost fall. Numair strode forwards and took hold of her bare shoulders, steadying her.

"How dare you touch her like that," his voice was low and dangerous as he glowered at Luka. Now he too was beginning to feel the first stirrings of anger. Luka had barged uninvited into his rooms and interrupted his very private reunion with Daine. She had raced after him through the palace corridors nearly naked, by all appearances desperate to soothe him, and for her troubles she had nearly been knocked over.

Luka froze and turned slowly, piercing Numair with an icy glare. He moved towards him, each step slow and deliberate. When he reached the couple, Numair ignored Daine's protests and pushed her behind him, determined that if this man wanted to fight it would be with him. At this gesture, Luka's lip peeled back in something very close to a growl. "I would _never _hurt 'er," he snarled, "which is more'n you can say. You could've given 'er a home, could've been a pa to the children. Instead you cast 'er away for another woman and let 'er go out into the world alone. If I hadn't found 'er she would've given birth in the forest, alone apart from the animals. She most likely would've died, an' with no one to look after 'em the babes would've followed."

Numair wanted to defend himself, to argue that he hadn't left Daine for another woman, that he hadn't stopped loving her in all the years of her absence. But although he hadn't been unfaithful, he had broken Daine's heart and it was his fault that she had left. She should have given birth in the palace, surrounded by healers and friends. She should have spent the days following Rikash and Sarralyn's arrival into the world discovering both the joys and sorrows of motherhood with the father of the children at her side, kissing away the tears when she cried and sharing in her happiness when she laughed. It was one of the rare occasions of Numair's life when he found that words failed him.

Apparently satisfied with Numair's silence, Luka turned his gaze on Daine. Now his voice lost its anger and was replaced with an intense sadness. "How many times did you lie awake cryin'? For damn near a _year _I listened to you weep every night, not knowin' how to help you. You wouldn't 'ave lived if your ma hadn't told you to, an' even after that you nearly starved yourself. I washed you an' fed you an' carried you when you were too weak to walk, an' I did the same for the babes when they came."

Now there were tears gathering in Daine's eyes, threatening to spill over and run down her cheeks. "Please," she begged, reaching out to him, "there's so much you don't know, so much that I've only just found out. If you'll just let me explain-"

"No," Luka interrupted. "All the years I've known you, you've been tryin' to put yourself together after _'e_," he jabbed his finger roughly in Numair's direction, "broke you. I've watched – I've _helped_ – you get stronger, an' become a whole person. I won't sit 'ere an' watch while you let 'im rip you apart again. I'm sorry, chit, I just can't."

Without another word, without even another glance at Daine or Numair, he turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him. At the sound of the door clicking shut, so firmly placing a barrier between herself and Luka, the tears that had been welling in Daine's eyes finally spilled over as she began to sob. Numair found that he didn't know what to do; he wanted to comfort her as he should have been doing for years, but he didn't know whether she would welcome it as he was the reason for Luka's abrupt departure. Then she turned to him and he found his arms opening of their own accord. She stepped into them willingly, hiding her face against his bare chest as he stroked her curls.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, unsure of whether he was apologising for Luka leaving, the things he had done or the things he hadn't.

Just as Daine began to calm, the door to what Numair presumed to be her bedroom swung open and three figures trooped out. At the sight of Numair Rikash's eyes narrowed; Sarralyn whispered for him to behave himself, reminding him that his tantrum of the previous night had made their ma cry. Kitten raised herself up on her back paws, whistling anxiously to see Daine so upset.

"What's _he _doing here?" Rikash demanded. "And where's Luka?"

Daine began to cry again.

* * *

Later, much later, Numair found himself being led down a drafty, stone corridor by his king. As prisoners were normally kept far away from the palace, the building only had a small dungeon where wrongdoers – or those suspected of wrongdoing – were held temporarily. That small prison was where he was being taken now, although Jon hadn't made it entirely clear why. 

Daine, walking at his side, was unusually subdued. She allowed her curtain of hair to hang in front of her face, hiding her swollen eyes, the evidence of hours of weeping, from Jon. Luka had stuck to his word and disappeared, and Daine had been forced to tell the children that he had left them. Sarralyn, like her mother, had sobbed and locked herself in the bedroom with Kitten, whereas Rikash had been furious and had placed the blame for his friend's departure solely on Numair's shoulders. Before Daine had had the chance to calm her son and coax her daughter from her hiding place, they had received a summons from Jon and had been forced to leave the children in the capable hands of Onua.

"What are we doing here, Jon?" Numair asked quietly.

By way of reply, Jon removed something from his pocket and handed it to Daine. Her head jerked up and she took it quickly, almost snatching it from his hands. Numair peered over her shoulder; it was a viciously sharp looking dagger, an intricate carving of a wolf's head carved into the hilt. Where the wolf's eyes should be were two rubies that in the dim light seemed to gleam with a life of their own. "Where did you get this?" She asked, voice trembling.

"I'm assuming that you recognise it," Jon said.

She nodded. "It belongs to the Poison Fang clan in Scanra. See this?" She tapped the wolf's head lightly. "It's their sign. How did you get this?"

"Follow me," Jon said grimly. He brought them to the end of a corridor, where a uniformed guard bowed and produced a silver key, using it to unlock the large, wooden door they waited in front of. The room they entered seemed to be made entirely of slabs of cold stone, and was devoid of any ornamentation. "They found him snooping around the edge of the royal forest," Jon explained. "When they brought him here all he would say is that he will only talk to you."

"_Daine_?" Numair asked incredulously. "Is it really appropriate to grant such a request?"

"It's the only way he'll talk," Daine said. When he turned to look at her, he could only just make out her face in the darkness, grim but determined. "I have a history with this clan, and their leader bears me a grudge."

"He's loyal to the Great Council?" Jon asked.

Daine smiled, but it was sour. "It goes back further than that. He tried to persuade me into his bed and when I refused he tried to force me. I threatened to kill him should he try it again, and he's been seeking revenge for the humiliation ever since."

"Then it's even more inappropriate for you to speak to this prisoner!" Numair cried.

"I have to."

"Daine, _no-_"

Numair broke off, quelling slightly under the intensity of her gaze. She said, "I need to find out whether Ranulf's man got word to him that I'm here before he was captured. If so," she glanced in Jon's direction, "then I'm afraid I'll have to put off whatever mission you wish to send me on, your majesty. If I don't get to Ranulf quickly, then it won't just be me who's in danger, but my children and anyone who helps us."

Jon nodded. "Of course. Your safety and that of your family is paramount."

"I'm coming in with you," Numair said firmly. He knew that Daine had survived for eight years without him, had protected their children during that time, but he was finding that old habits were resurfacing and he couldn't help but be protective of her. She made no protest as he followed her into the cell that Jon opened for them, but focused her attention entirely on the prisoner. Unsurprisingly for a man who hailed from Scanra, he had a mane of blonde hair streaked with mud, presumably from his prowling of the forest.

Daine fell to her knees in front of him and slid her fingers beneath his chin, forcing him to look up at her. "What's this?" She asked softly. "A dog without his master. It's been a long time, Erik."

Erik's eyes burned with fury as he stared at her. "Your time is coming, whore," he spat. "Ranulf is greatly anticipating having your blood on his blade once again."

Numair wasn't conscious of moving towards them, fists clenched. He only became aware that he had moved when Jon gripped him by the shoulder, holding him still. "Temper," he cautioned. "He has information Daine needs." Numair nodded reluctantly and turned his attention back to Daine, who held up the dagger given to her by Jon.

"Is this yours?" She asked. "You really should be more careful with your weapons."

"Your filthy hands pollute it, just as you fouled our men when you invited them into your bed."

Daine tilted her head slightly, staring at the man as if here were some kind of interesting toy. Then her hand was moving through the air almost too quickly to see, bringing the blade up to slash through Erik's throat. There was a brief moment of struggle and then he slumped to the side, dead. Numair was vaguely aware of Jon letting out a cry of dismay. He couldn't quite believe what he had just witnessed; Daine, killing a man for nothing more than an insult? It took him only a few seconds to realise that something was wrong, and place exactly what it was. Although Daine had sliced clear through his throat, there was no blood.

"I thought you needed him, why did you kill him?" Jon demanded.

"It was a simulacrum," Numair answered before Daine could. "How did you know?"

"Erik – the _real _Erik – has a small amount of wild magic, mostly with dogs. When I looked there was no copper fire." She sighed and rose to her feet, dusting off her breeches. "That means that the real Erik probably knows I'm here, and if he knows then so does Ranulf."


	7. Departure

**Four years ago**

Ranulf stared moodily into the fire, twirling the dagger that still bore Daine's blood absentmindedly in his fingers. He couldn't believe the audacity of her. She was nothing but a common born bastard, and no better than her mother judging by her fatherless brats. She should be _honored _that he wanted her. Instead she had attacked and insulted him; the only saving grace was that no one had been there to witness his humiliation at her hands.

There had to be some way of getting revenge, of repaying her for the embarrassment. But that gutless dog was forever at her side, seeing off any man who even dared to look at her with his fists. As much as he hated to admit it, she was more than capable of defending herself. She had proved that tonight.

He glowered at his dagger. He would have to clean her dried, flaking blood from the blade before it polluted it. Grabbing a rag, he made to wipe it away but paused with the fabric inches from the blood. An idea floated through his mind, and gradually began to take shape. He had the Gift, but he was no great mage. He preferred to wield solid weapons in his hands, swords and axes. But there were other mages, very powerful mages, in his small clan. How many times had they told him the uses of the blood of a seemingly untouchable enemy?

He set the dagger down carefully on the table, making sure not to knock a single flake of dried blood off.

* * *

**Now**

These days Daine found that not many things moved her to tears. There was a time, shortly after the birth of the twins, when she cried almost every night, and quite often during the daytime when she could be sure that Luka wasn't nearby. It wasn't that she was ashamed of her tears, but, despite his gruff manner, she knew that Luka cared about her, and the sight of her weeping often set him worrying for hours. After an exhausting year of grieving what she had lost when she left her adopted homeland and struggling to bring up two babies when she could barely take care of herself, she had stopped crying. Previously she had imagined an inexhaustible well of tears within herself that was forever at bursting point, but one day it just dried up.

Since returning to Tortall, the well had become a lake and it seemed determined to burst its banks at least once an hour. She cried when she spoke with the friends who welcomed her back into their lives so readily. She cried almost every time she thought of Numair. She cried when there was absolutely no reason to, but she just couldn't seem to stop it. Now, telling her children that she had to leave them, she felt tears sting her eyes again but blinked them back rapidly, not wishing to upset them anymore than she already had.

"Why can't we come?" Rikash demanded crossly.

"It's too dangerous. I'll feel much better knowing that you're here in the castle with lots of wizards and knights to protect you. Most of them will answer any questions you have about magic," she said to Rikash in particular, hoping that the boy's love of magical knowledge and power would be enough of an incentive for him to stay at the palace without putting up too much of a fight. Looking at Sarralyn she added, "You've only been in the Riders' stables, you haven't even seen the nobles' horses yet, and there's so many different animals in the palace."

Like her brother, Sarralyn wouldn't be distracted. "You say _everything _is dangerous," she said.

"We have our magic!" Rikash put in.

"I promise you that when you're grown up and powerful mages, you can come with me on all sorts of adventures. Until then you have to stay somewhere safe."

Rikash stood and attempted to pull himself up to a full, imposing height, no small feat for a seven-year-old. "_Luka_ would let us go."

Daine fixed him with her sternest glare, the one she reserved just for moments like this. He stood his ground firmly, only the rapid fluttering of his eyelids betraying how nervous that look made him. "Luka would do no such thing," she said. "He would tell you to mind your mother, and you'd be lucky to escape without a cuff around the ear."

"Well Luka isn't here," he retorted.

Before Daine had the chance to say anything more, a very small voice said, "He hates us." Turning to the speaker she found Sarralyn, tears glittering in the large blue-grey eyes that so resembled her own. The little girl looked just about as lost as Daine felt at the disappearance of the hulking, bear of a man who had cared for her since she was in the cradle. It was with a jolt that she realised the first time Sarralyn had been separated from Luka was a few weeks ago, at the beginning of the journey from Scanra to Corus. She couldn't imagine how she felt at the loss of such an important part of her life.

"Sweet," Daine said softly, reaching out to pull Sarralyn into her lap, "he could never hate you. What would make you think such a thing?"

"Why would he leave if he doesn't hate us?"

"Because of _him_," Rikash spat. Daine didn't need to ask who 'him' was; Rikash was still doing his best to ignore Numair whenever he was nearby.

"It's because of me. He's angry with me at the moment," Daine said.

"Why?" Sarralyn asked. "Did you do something naughty?"

Daine sighed inwardly. How could she explain something so complex to two young children? Casting around for an example, she said, "Do you remember when Rikash used his Gift to light a fire?" Sarralyn nodded, and Rikash quickly avoided his mother's gaze. The first time he had tried to start a magical fire without his mother's permission he had almost burned the house down. "I wasn't angry with him for trying to use his magic, although he should have waited until I was there to help. I was angry because he could have hurt himself, and it scared me."

Sarralyn frowned. "So you did something wrong with your magic?"

Shaking her head Daine said, "Not quite. He thinks I might hurt myself and that makes him scared, and he handles being afraid by being angry."

"_I _wouldn't run away if I thought you were going to get hurt," Rikash said. "I'd help you." He promptly launched into another argument about why he should be allowed to accompany Daine to Scanra, which was thankfully cut short by the arrival of Onua and a young man she didn't recognise. The young man, it transpired, was one of the palace mages and a close friend of Onua's, come to offer Rikash a tour of the academics' arcane delights. At the same time Onua offered to introduce Sarralyn to some of the horses she hadn't met yet. The look Daine gave her old friend as she escorted the children from the room was full of silent gratitude. She had a lot to do before she could leave, and it would have been difficult with the children in tow.

Firstly she had to locate Kitten, who was enjoying the attention of the friends she hadn't seen in years. The dragonet was decidedly unhappy at the news that she couldn't accompany her ma on the journey, but was consoled when the royal couple continued to lavish affection on her. Cloud was even less happy and told Daine that she was ridiculous for attempting such a mission alone and without help. Her human friends were also deeply unhappy that she was leaving so soon after her returned, but accepted that what she had to do was necessary.

Once she had said goodbye to everyone she knew she made her way to Numair's rooms. She had been putting off speaking to him since she the confrontation in the dungeon, knowing that he would be just as insistent on following her as Rikash was. She found him throwing things into a large pack, moving so quickly that he hardly seemed to notice her when she entered the room. "Going somewhere?" She asked quietly. Numair didn't stop packing, as if determined to show that she wouldn't deter him.

"Of course I'm going somewhere. Did you _really_ think that I would let you go alone?"

_Like father like son, _she thought grimly. "You're not coming," she said, her voice soft but firm. She could understand perfectly why Numair wanted to accompany her. If the situation was reversed, if _he _had reappeared after an absence of almost a decade only to disappear again to fight someone bent on killing him, she knew that she would try to follow. She also knew that he would do everything in his power to stop her, as she would do now. Numair could travel quickly in hawk form, but she was far more adept at flying and would make better time alone. She could also move with more silence and secrecy, both of which would be vital over the coming days. Most important of all, he was the only person she would trust to care for Sarralyn and Rikash at this time of danger. If Luka hadn't left she might have allowed Numair to follow her, but now that was out of the question.

He shoved a shirt into the pack with rather more force than was necessary before turning, fisted hands on hips, to face her. At that moment he reminded her so much of her mother when she received a scolding from her in childhood that she had to bite back an insane urge to laugh. "Daine," he said sternly, "you want to track and kill a man who cared enough about murdering you that he sent a simulacrum across two countries to find you. You are _not _going alone. It's out of the question."

Daine sighed and sat down on the nearest seat, trying to avoid his eye. She didn't want to say what she was about to, but he left her little other choice. "One way or another I'm going alone. If I have to leave without telling you or saying goodbye, I will." Risking a glance at his face, she met nothing but anger. "I'm sorry," she whispered, trying to put everything she felt into those two words.

The anger melted from Numair's face to be replaced by a deep sadness, and something bordering on desperation. "Why won't you let me help you?" He asked, a note of pleading entering his voice. "I don't understand. We have been strangers for a long time, but I remember that you don't turn help down if it can be spared."

"What if I did allow you to come with me? Who would look after my – _our_ - children?" She demanded. "As long as Ranulf knows that he can use them to get to me, they're in every bit as much danger as I am – more, in fact, because I'm far more capable of defending myself than they are. They need you here more than I need you on the journey."

For a moment Numair looked as if he would attempt to argue. Finding nothing that he could convince her with, he sank onto the end of the bed, a look of helplessness written on his face that scared Daine with its intensity. She couldn't remember seeing him so lost, but perhaps that was because he had never been put in this type of situation before. Enemy sorcerers, bandits and the most terrifying of immortals rarely scared him. Even when the barrier had fallen he hadn't seem scared, and had only leapt into action to fight against anything that threatened the realm. Therein lay the problem: he couldn't fight, he could only wait and worry.

Abandoning her chair, Daine went to him and pulled his hands away as he tried to hide his face in them. He looked into her eyes frankly and said, "I don't want to lose you again." Instead of speaking, she leaned in and kissed him, hoping to make him forget his worry for a while. A few moments when his lips remained stiff against hers, then he relaxed and pulled her close. She complied eagerly, climbing into his lap and wrapping her limbs around him. Pushing him gently back onto the mattress, she muffled his rush of anxieties with a far more heated kiss.

Later, long after darkness had fallen, Daine disentangled herself from a pair of strong arms. Although the owner was sleeping, they still sought to anchor her to him. Carefully, trying not to wake him, she slid from the bed and began to retrieve her clothes from where they had been scattered around the room. She dressed without the benefit of light, not wanting to risk even the disturbance of a single candle.

Pausing in the bedroom doorway, she turned and looked back at Numair. She was fulfilling her earlier threat, leaving without saying goodbye, but she had to leave the palace while it was dark to avoid being spotted, and if she woke him he would insist on following her. Although she knew why it had to be done this way, it felt far too much like the last time she left him: without a word, without a hint of when or even if she would ever come back.

There had to be some way of conveying that she intended to return, and that when she did she wanted to begin repairing their shattered relationship, without waking him. After a moment of thought the idea came to her in a rush of inspiration. There was a moment of trepidation, a moment of wondering whether she trusted him enough, before she pushed her fears aside and made her farewell. She left the room silently, hurrying to her rooms to hold her children a final time before embarking on the long journey to Scanra.

* * *

The guard posted outside Mistress Sarrasri's rooms felt his eyes begin to slide shut, and gave his arm a sharp pinch to keep himself alert. What he stood watch over was _very _important: a dragonet and two children. The children of the famed Wildmage and the black robe Numair Salmalin, no less. He had no doubt that if harm came to them because he had shut his eyes, he would never open them again. There were only a couple of hours until dawn, when a replacement would come to relieve him. He could last until then. 

Footsteps echoed down the corridor and he straightened abruptly, hand going to the sword sheathed at his hip. Turning to the source of the noise he found the Mistress Sarrasri herself, a smile of greeting gracing her soft lips. The guard frowned: he thought she had already left for whatever dangerous mission she was being sent on. "Mistress Sarrasri," he greeted cordially. "I thought you had already left us."

"I forgot to pack something," she said. "I'll get it and be on my way in a moment." The guard's frown deepened. This didn't quite match with what he already knew. When the Mistress had left earlier on, he had been confused to see that she carried nothing but the clothes she wore. Overcome with curiosity, he had forgotten his place for a moment and asked her why she took nothing to sustain her on a journey. It was with a slightly sour smile that she told him shape shifters often couldn't afford the luxury of luggage, and she would lose even her clothes the moment she changed shape. So why was she returning now to add something to a pack she didn't have?

A large, blood red stone hung around her neck. She raised her hand and began to toy with it, turning it over in her slender fingers so that it glimmered. The guard found that he couldn't look away, fascinated by the way light seemed to glitter in its depths. A strange feeling stole over him; it felt as if a heavy, warm blanket was being drawn around him. Suddenly it became very hard to think. He didn't notice the shining steel as she drew the dagger from a hidden pocket, and only wondered at the softness of her skin as she pressed her hand against his mouth. Then the dagger sliced clean through his throat and he no longer thought at all.

The thing that wore the Wildmage's shape stepped back, disgust evident in her features as she swiped at the blood on her shirt. That blood could make things more difficult, if the child should see it in the dark. Then again, it might make things easier; the child might come more willingly if she thought her mother was hurt. She grabbed the guard by his ankle and nudged the door open, dragging him inside. By the time he was well hidden she was panting and cursing the unfamiliar weakness that came with this body.

The children slept in the same bed, brother and sister slumbering peacefully side by side. She had no interest in the boy. He had a Gift greater than anyone guessed, and although it was largely untrained the rage that lay dormant inside him, which had risen to the surface many times in Scanra, could shape his magic into a lethal weapon. Taking him would be much more trouble than it was worth. The girl, on the other hand, could easily be controlled. She had power, there was no doubt about that, but she could be terrified enough to prevent her using it. The dragonet known as Skysong slept in a ball at the end of the bed. She would have to be careful not to wake her; Skysong would know that she was not her adoptive mother.

She sat gently on the mattress, being careful not to disturb those she didn't want to wake. Smoothing curls from the girl's forehead, she whispered. "Sarralyn! Sarralyn, wake up!" The girl roused surprisingly quickly, sitting up, staring wide eyed in the darkness. "Ma?" She called.

"Hush, sweet," she said, using her best motherly voice. "You need to come with me, quickly and quietly."

"Why?" She breathed. "You said we couldn't come."

"I had to say that, I didn't want to upset Rikash. I just need _you,_ I need _your _help. Will you do it? Will you help ma?"

Sarralyn cast a worried look at her sleeping brother. "What about Rikash?"

"He'll forgive us for leaving. We'll bring him back a nice present. Will you help?"

Slowly Sarralyn nodded. The thing that looked like Daine pulled a small phial from her pocket, uncorked it and held it out to the girl. "Drink this," she murmured. "It'll stop you getting sick on the journey." Sarralyn drank it trustingly, draining the phial in one gulp. The dreamrose worked quickly, and she fell into the deepest sleep of her life. She wouldn't rouse until after they had crossed the border into Scanra.

Several rooms away Numair woke suddenly, reaching for something that was no longer there. He didn't need to open his eyes to know that Daine was gone; the mattress and tangled blankets at his side had long since grown cold. Rolling onto his side, his grasping hand came into contact with something soft. His eyes sprang open; in his fingers he held a curl of what was unmistakably Daine's hair. Beneath it, a note that read simply: _You won't lose me again. _


	8. Dawn

Not much action in this chapter, sorry! There will be more in the next chapter. Sorry that it took me longer than usual to update, I visited family and didn't have wonderful internet access. Thank you to everyone for reviewing!

* * *

**Four years ago.**

Daine had the feeling that fate, the God of grand coincidences, or some other such force that meddled in mortal lives, had designs on her tonight. To say that it had been a strange evening would be something of an understatement. That Ranulf had finally gathered together what little courage he possessed to attack her was nothing short of a twisted miracle, and, for reasons unbeknownst to Daine, Sarralyn was as inconsolable as if she had witnessed a horrific murder, which made Luka and Rikash skittish. Now, sitting outside the house that contained her fitfully sleeping family, she had the suspicion that the little demon intent on ruining her day hadn't quite had all its fun with her yet.

So when the air around her began to change, it was exasperation rather than surprise that filled her. It wasn't a bad feeling, not a signal of approaching hoards of immortals, but neither was it normal. Everything felt so much more _alive_; in fact, she felt so full of life that she feared she might pop. Although she had never felt anything like this before, it reminded her strongly of being in the same room as Numair while he undertook a powerful working.

She reached for Weiryn's bow, the weapon that she had somehow managed to cling onto through being snatched from northern Tortall and held captive in a bandit camp. The arrow was slid into place and the string pulled back to her ear within seconds. Slowly she rose to her feet, shaping herself bat ears and hawk eyes to give herself a greater sensitivity to her surroundings.

Despite Daine's increased awareness, she didn't notice the woman until she stood directly in front of her. During her time as a member of the Tortallan court she had seen many beauties at balls and banquets, but none of them compared to this woman. Pristine skin looked as hard and smooth as marble, and hair thicker and darker than Thayet's flowed past her shoulders. The woman's green eyes seemed to pierce through the gloom, through Daine's flesh and bones, and look into the very essence of her. Memory stirred: years ago, after the battle with Ozorne and her confrontation with Uusoae, being dragged before the gods as they passed judgment on Chaos. This woman had been amongst them; in fact, she had been one of the greatest amongst them, seated at Mithros's side.

She cast bow and arrow aside and sank into a low bow, hoping her trembling legs wouldn't give way and spill her to the ground. "My Lady," she murmured respectfully, wondering what on earth the Great Goddess wanted with her.

When the Goddess spoke her voice was both soft and harsh, a mass of contradictions that could never emit from a mortal's throat. "It seems to be your destiny to suffer through dark and dangerous times, Veralidaine Sarrasri," she said, clearly deciding to dispense with greetings.

The new cut on Daine's inner thigh twinged, and she remembered her earlier confrontation with Ranulf. "Trouble seems fond of following me, my Lady," she said dryly.

The Goddess smiled, sending a warm shiver down Daine's spine. "Surrounded by your friends and comrades, there was little doubt that you could survive whatever the universe dealt you. Now things are not so certain."

Daine remained silent, waiting for the Goddess to proceed. After a long pause in which Daine felt as if she was being studied and weighed up, the Goddess said, "Most of my brothers and sisters would be loath to admit this, but you have done us a great favour. You killed Uusoae's pawn and forced her out into the open. You were an excellent, if unwilling, vessel for my sister when she wished to make changes in her country, and you removed a monarch who refused to pay tribute to his Gods. Your parents plead with us to aid you, and even now my daughter prays for your safety. I help you now because you have helped us in the past, and because others seem to think you are worthy of helping."

Once again Daine was silent, but this time because her tongue was as useless as a lump of lead. What was she supposed to say to one of the Great Gods when they offered her help? Recalling her past experiences with gods, she found that they offered no help, gave her no indication of how to act. The Goddess seemed to know this and, instead of taking offence, smiled. "I wish to give you something, Veralidaine, although it is not really mine to give. He comes of his own free will."

"'He?'" Daine asked, frowning. Apart from the children and Luka, who where all asleep in the house, she and the Goddess were alone.

The Goddess extended her hand and a cloud of silver fire bloomed from her fingertips. It raced across the ground and quickly began to take shape, extending to become a glowing archway taller than both woman and goddess. Fog swirled in the middle of the arch, obscuring the shadowy trees and grass on the other side. When the fog cleared, Daine no longer saw the grounds surrounding her house, but a lush, sun soaked sea of emerald grass. A figure moved against the horizon; a horse, one of the largest she had ever seen, despite the distance between them. It turned and galloped towards Daine, moving faster than should be possible. Within seconds it had crossed the field and burst through the archway, the silver fire evaporating behind it.

"This," the Goddess said, "is Hematite. He has agreed to serve you for as long as is necessary."

Hematite was beautiful. The muscles beneath his black coat, darker than midwinter night, seemed to bristle and twitch with suppressed energy. His eyes were only a shade lighter than his fur, and reminded her forcibly of the Dream Master's eyes in that they seemed to stretch on forever. Daine realised that he wasn't _one _of the largest horses she had ever seen, he was _the _largest horse. When she cast a thread of her copper fire over him, she was taken aback by his power and fierce intelligence.

"If horses had royal families, Hematite would be something of a prince," the Goddess said. "He hails from the Divine Realms and as such can be commanded by no one."

_-I have agreed to help you because you are a friend to my mortal brethren, as well as to the other folk of fur and feather.- _Hematite spoke to her exactly as the badger did, but his voice was far louder in her head. _–I serve you because I choose to. You are not my master; I am not your slave.- _The last part was said with such force that Daine's eyes began to water.

"I wouldn't dream of trying to enslave you," Daine said quickly.

_-You couldn't.- _Hematite snorted.

"Serve him well and he will serve you well," the Goddess said. "I fear you will need his help before too long."

* * *

**Now**

Daine landed on the ground with a soft thump, losing her eagle form and taking on human limbs once again. A good few hours of flight lay between her and the palace and now, with the sun climbing steadily over the horizon, it was time for some much needed rest. The strong autumn chill in the air mercilessly nipped at her naked, sweat soaked flesh, causing her skin to break out in goose pimples. No matter; within minutes she would be swaddled in thick clothes and cooking breakfast over the campfire with the promise of a bedroll in her mind.

Over the years, Luka's over protectiveness and need for her to be prepared for any eventuality had exasperated her many times. Now she silently thanked the gods for it, and tried her best to ignore the sudden wave of sadness that her friend wasn't here to thank personally. Knowing that if all went to plan Daine would be flying back to Scanra for the king, on the journey to Corus Luka had buried several packs of food, clothes and bedrolls in various locations. One should be somewhere nearby, if only she could find it.

After a few moments of searching she found the marker that indicated where the pack was buried. She clawed frantically at the damp earth, now desperate for warmth and food. Her fingers hit warm cloth, and when she pulled the pack out of the ground she smiled to see the dark red glow of Rikash's Gift, keeping water and dirt from polluting the bag's contents. She dressed as quickly as her tired limbs allowed and began the fire, swearing quietly to herself at the amount of damp wood that otherwise would have been perfect fuel for the flames.

Breakfast was a few potatoes and dried, salted meat eaten so quickly that she barely had time to snatch a breath. By the time she crawled into her bedroll it was all she could do to keep her eyes open, and within seconds she had slipped into a sleep filled with dreams of the children, Numair, Luka, and the fight that awaited her in Scanra.

* * *

In the palace, Numair groaned as he straightened his back. For the last candle mark he had been hunched over his desk, finding a safe place to keep Daine's curl of hair and performing the complicated piece of magic required to turn it into a focus. This time he used a necklace rather than a bracelet, preferring to keep his link to Daine close to his heart. Upon waking, in the awful moment when he realised he was alone, he had considered creating the focus and using it to find Daine and accompany her to Scanra whether she liked it or not. But she had asked that he care for Sarralyn and Rikash, and he wouldn't let her down. Not again.

He slipped the necklace around his neck and hid it beneath his shirt, safe and out of sight. Sighing, he rose and stuffed his feet into the nearest pair of boots. It was time to take over from the guard watching his children. He doubted that it would be an enjoyable day; although he wanted to get to know his children, they didn't seem to share the desire. Sarralyn might soften towards him given time, but Rikash seemed determined to keep him as far away from his sister and mother as possible.

Before he had the chance to leave the room there was a knock on the door. He opened it to find no one. Frowning, he began to close the door only to be stopped by an urgent whistle. Lowering his gaze he found Kitten. He had never seen her look quite like this before: blooms of red, silver and grey chased each other across her scales. She gave another high pitched whistle before turning and running down the hallway, clearly expecting Numair to follow her. He complied with her wish, hot worry flaring in his stomach. Why would a clearly terrified Kitten be at his door when it was barely past dawn?

Upon arriving outside Daine's rooms he found the cause of Kittens concerns immediately. Small flecks of dark, dried blood were splattered over the door and floor. Numair's first thought was Daine, that she had been injured or even killed. But then he remembered that she had left the palace hours ago, and his concern was for the children.

He pushed the door open and almost fell over the source of all the blood. A guard, his eyes blank and glassy, his throat slashed. There was no helping him; here there were no flecks of blood, but a large puddle of it soaked into the carpet. "Sarralyn!" Numair roared, fear now becoming terror. "Rikash!" Leaping over the dead guard, he hurried into the room that he had seen Rikash emerge from on the night of Daine's return. The little boy was asleep in bed, but there was no sign of his sister.

Numair fell to his knees at the side of the bed and, deciding that he had no time to wake Rikash gently, shook him awake. "Rikash," he said urgently, "wake up!"

At first Rikash was groggy, but when he realised who had disturbed him his small brow contracted into a frown. "What d'you want?" He demanded sleepily.

"Where's your sister?" Numair asked. "Where's Sarralyn?"

"She's 'sposed to be here," Rikash said.

Before Numair had the chance to ask anything more, another whistle from Kitten drew his attention. She held a small phial in her forepaws; it was a potion bottle, something that had no place in a child's bedroom. With a hurried thank you he plucked the bottle from her paws and peered inside. It was empty, but the scent told him what it had held: dreamrose.

* * *

When Luka opened his eyes, it took him a while to realise that it was daylight. He had no memory of falling asleep, and the last time he shut his eyes before falling into a deep slumber it had been the early hours of the morning, the only light coming from moon and stars. He sat up with a jolt, almost falling from Hem's back and causing the horse to snort in indignation.

His surroundings looked very familiar, but not because he had seen them recently. Last night he had been traveling along a deserted road that cut through freshly harvested fields. Now he was in the middle of a forest aflame with copper and bronze, the fallen leaves sparkling with the year's first frost. In front of him was a small cottage, the front door ripped off its hinges and formerly handsome thatched roof blackened from fire. Luka knew this place well: it was the cottage he had lived in most of his life, the place he had left when Daine went into the Council's service.

That meant he was in Scanra; _northern _Scanra. How had he completed a journey that was supposed to take days, if not weeks, in under two days? Last night he had been in Tortall, his progress away from the palace painfully slow. Now he was in an entirely different country. As if hearing his thoughts, Hem whickered softly in something very close to a laugh. Luka glared down at him and said, "Why do I get the feelin' that there's more to you than you an' the chit are tellin' me?"


	9. Action

If there's anyone at all still reading this I apologise for the _enormous _delay. It won't happen again.

* * *

**Five Years Ago**

The children were excited today, happier than Daine had ever seen them. By the time the sun set, she knew, they would be fast asleep and unable to catch a first glimpse of the cause of their excitement: their new home. A grand house given to them by the Great Council. Daine wished she could be as excited as her children, but she couldn't bring herself to be happy about this change in their lives. Sarralyn and Rikash were too young to understand the implications of the gift: Daine was bound to serve the Great Council for life. She wished she had never accepted their offer of work.

But what other choice had she had? You didn't refuse the Council, not if you wanted to live to a ripe old age. If she had turned them down it would have meant a rootless existence of running and hiding, and, while she would have found that preferable if she was on her own, she couldn't impose that kind of life on her children. At least there was a chance of escape for them. As much as it would pain her to be parted from them, if she threw herself into working for the Council then by the time Rikash and Sarralyn were old enough she would be able to afford to send them to university in Tortall. They would have a good life there, albeit without her.

After they were safe in the realm Daine had adopted as her home, perhaps she could disappear from the sight of the Council. It wouldn't be difficult: remaining undetected is an easy task for a woman who can take the shape of any animal at will. Perhaps she could even return to Tortall herself and settle somewhere far away from Corus. Making a home in the north, so close to the Scanran border, would be unacceptable, but the desert in the south held possibilities. Although she wouldn't go anywhere unless Luka agreed to accompany her; she wouldn't leave him, not after everything he had done for them.

Thoughts of a distant, happier future were of no use to her now. She had to make the most of the grim present. This was a fresh start, even if it was one she hadn't wanted to be given, and it required a clean break with the past. She slipped behind Luka's cottage and into the woods, smiling as the shrieks of laughter from the children rang in her ears. Everything they wanted to take with them was packed and they were all dressed in travelling clothes: there was just one thing that she had left to do.

Falling to her knees, Daine rummaged in her pocket and pulled out a gold bracelet. It was the focus: the miniature portrait Numair had commissioned and the lock of hair he had taken from her while she was delirious with fever. In truth, she had no idea why she had kept it for so long. She had stolen it so that Numair wouldn't be able to track her down. Although she doubted that he would care much about locating her when he had his new woman to occupy his time with, Daine knew she had friends who would want to find her before she was ready to be found.

Now it was a link, not only to the man who had been her teacher, friend and lover, but to her old home and friends. She had never meant to leave Tortall permanently; she had merely required time for the ache in her heart to heal. But bandits had intervened and fate had led her to Luka, who her mother had appointed as her protector. Although it began to seem impossible that she could ever face Numair again as time passed, she had always cherished a silent, mostly unacknowledged hope that she would find a way to return to Tortall. Now she had to banish that feeble hope forever.

She pushed her fingers into the dark, damp earth and began to dig a hole. It was the work of minutes. She pressed a kiss against the bracelet, her lips lingering on the cold metal, before dropping it into its grave and covering it over. Standing, she dusted off her breeches and made her way back to the children and Luka.

* * *

**Now**

After the initial panic Numair felt numb. Perhaps it was because the last few days had been so exhausting: the apprehension of waiting for Daine's arrival after she had been absent from his life for so long, the heart-stopping thrill of seeing her again, and then the crushing realisation that she didn't know of his love for her. The discovery that he had two children who were already half grown. The joy of falling asleep with his arms wrapped around Daine; the loneliness and fear of waking up to discover that she had gone. He knew that later he would be so terrified that he wouldn't be able to breathe, but for the moment he was propelled into action by the knowledge that he had to find his daughter.

There was nothing left of Sarralyn's in the room she shared with Rikash. Not a ribbon, or a doll, or even a single strand of hair clinging to a comb. There was no sign at all that a little girl had slept and played there only a few hours before. Numair knew why this was, of course. His daughter's kidnapper knew enough about magic to understand what could be done with an item that had been in Sarralyn's possession for a long period of time. In short, they had left him nothing he could make a focus out of.

Numair had called everyone in to help him search. The king and queen, Alanna, Onua, their faces pale with grief and worry as they turned over chairs and rifled through linen. It seemed that the only bright colour in the room came from Rikash's red rimmed eyes. He had taken Sarralyn's disappearance the hardest. With Luka gone, the young boy considered it his responsibility to care for his mother and sister, and both of them had vanished in a matter of hours. Numair couldn't comfort him, not yet. His priority was to search for Sarralyn. Kitten sat at Rikash's side, trilling mournfully.

When it became apparent that the kidnapper had left nothing of Sarralyn's they turned to their next option: scrying. Everyone who was capable of it tried looking for her, using mirrors, water, blades; anything at all with a smooth, reflective surface. Each of them saw the same thing: a dense black fog interwoven with shining strands of copper. Apparently the kidnapper was not just knowledgeable about magic, but a mage himself. There was no way they could find Sarralyn through magical means.

"We'll go after them," Alanna said, jerking out of the chair she had occupied whilst scrying. Her sharp, agitated movements were familiar to everyone in the room: she was feeling increasingly helpless as the chances of finding and recovering Sarralyn began to slim. "Most of the Rider Groups are spread out over the country and almost all of the knights and companies of the King's Own have been sent north, but we can make use of what we have. The trainee Riders haven't been here long, but can they join in?" she asked Onua.

Onua nodded. "With me and Sarge there to keep them in shape."

"I need to change," Thayet said, plucking at her dress. She hurried away to change into something more suitable for riding and tracking. Alanna and Onua followed in her steps, presumably to prepare the trainee Riders. The moment they were gone Numair pulled Jon aside, out of the hearing of the still dazed Rikash.

"I have to leave," Numair murmured urgently.

"I understand that you feel you need to leave immediately. We need to know where you're searching so we won't cover the same ground."

Numair shook his head. "No. I'm not going to look for Sarralyn. I'm going after Daine." As Jon's eyebrows shot up, Numair hastened to explain, "She's the best chance we have of finding Sarralyn. Whoever took her holds Daine a grudge, and my guess is that when she confronts this clan leader –this Ranulf – he will have Sarralyn there to manipulate her."

"You're placing a lot of faith in this guess," Jon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose lightly. "How confident are you?"

"Extremely. Even if Ranulf wasn't the man behind the kidnapping, the likelihood is that it was someone from the Council. That means that Sarralyn will be hidden somewhere in Scanra, and Daine will need my help to find her. However, I would appreciate it if you continued to search here in case I am mistaken."

Jon waved his hand dismissively. "That goes without saying. But there's something I don't understand: how exactly do you plan to find Daine? All we know is that she's travelling north, she didn't tell us anything specific about the route she was taking."

Numair hesitated. Telling Jon about the focus would reveal something about his relationship with Daine that he wasn't sure she wanted their friends to know about yet. They knew that Daine had been told the true reason for Numair ending their relationship, and that they were tentatively trying to reform some sort of a relationship. After she had fled half dressed from his rooms in pursuit of Luka, they had also probably guessed that that relationship extended beyond friendship. But that she had given him something with which he could make a focus showed that something deeper than friendship or physical intimacy still existed.

Slowly, Numair reached into the neck of his shirt and withdrew a small locket. He flicked the clasp open, revealing a curl of brown hair to Jon's gaze. For a moment Jon squinted at it, unsure of what he was seeing, before comprehension dawned in his face. "Is that-?"

"Daine's hair. It's a focus now."

"How did you get that?"

Numair frowned, ashamed that his friend thought badly of him. "I didn't take it from her, Jon," he said softly. "She gave it to me. I wouldn't have taken it from her without her knowledge, although Gods knows I would have felt better about her leaving if I'd had a focus." Instead of tucking the locket away he slipped it from his neck and held it out to Jon, who accepted it with a puzzled look.

"I need someone else – you or Alanna – to perform the spell to find Daine and then contact her with a speaking spell," Numair explained.

Jon's eyebrows shot up again. "I was under the impression that I employed the most powerful mage in the Eastern Lands. Why can't you do it?"

"The fastest way to get to Daine, wherever she is, will be in hawk shape, and we'll most certainly be flying to Scanra. I need to preserve my Gift."

"I'll do it," Jon said immediately. "Alanna will be busy rounding up the Riders now, and I presume you want me to find and contact Daine immediately?" At Numair's nod he asked, "What should I tell her?"

"Do _not _tell her that Sarralyn has been taken. She won't wait long enough for me to reach her if she finds out. Tell her-" he broke off, raking his fingers through his hair as he thought. "Just tell her that the situation has changed and now I must accompany her. A mention of a royal order might help." At this Jon's brow furrowed, but he didn't protest. He knew as well as Numair how stubborn Daine could be when she put her mind to it, and sometimes a royal mandate was the only thing she would pay attention to.

Casting an anxious look over his shoulder at Rikash, Numair stepped closer to the door and lowered his voice to a whisper. "He needs to be watched," he cautioned Jon.

"Of course."

"He's stunned now, but as soon as he gets over that he will want to go after Daine and Sarralyn. He won't be dissuaded easily, and he may even try to run away. The same applies to Kitten."

"Why can't you take Kitten?" asked Jon. "I understand wanting to keep Rikash here, but Kitten could be useful."

"It would be difficult to transport her, although not impossible," Numair said, and darted another glance at Rikash. "Besides which, I think Rikash needs a familiar face at the moment."


	10. News

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I'm so glad that people are still reading this. Not much action in this chapter (that will be coming next) but we do have some bonding between Daine and Numair. Thank you again!

* * *

Jon fell into an armchair, weariness making his eyelids heavy. The spell required to find someone using a focus was draining, although not quite as exhausting as trying to explain to a frightened Daine why she couldn't leave her current position until Numair arrived. She had been eager to continue her journey into Scanra and dispose of Ranulf as soon as possible, and being ordered to wait with no explanation as to why it was necessary clearly rankled her. Eventually Jon had extracted a promise from her that she wouldn't travel any further without Numair, although, as the mage had suggested, it had taken a royal order before such a promise was forthcoming.

The various search parties assembled by Alanna and Onua had left while he was looking for Daine and, drained and tired as he was, there was no chance that Jon would be able to catch up to them now. There was little he could do but wait for them to return and look in on Rikash from time to time. The stunned little boy was being watched over by four palace guards, both to prevent him being kidnapped and to foil any plans he may have to go after his sister.

The agonising wait for news that Jon had imagined turned out to last only a few minutes. Alanna strode into his sitting room without knocking, her mouth set in a grim line. "Have you found something?" Jon asked, jerking out of his seat.

"We've found something," Alanna said, dropping into a seat and gesturing for Jon to do the same. "It's not good."

For a moment Jon's mind presented him with a stream of horrifying images: Sarra bloody and bruised in the Royal Forest, Sarra's lifeless body being carried into the palace. Then reality came back, logic soothed his worries. If Sarra had been gravely injured then Alanna would be trying to heal her along with anyone else who had a healing Gift; if she had been found murdered then Alanna would look far more upset. "What is it?" he asked.

"One of the Rider trainees came forward with some information. He paid a late night trip to the girls' barracks and saw something rather interesting."

"Did he see who might have taken her?"

Alanna shook her head. "No. But he did see a hurrok taking flight from the Royal Forest – and this hurrok had a rider."

"You think it was Sarralyn's kidnapper?"

"We're going to keep searching the ground, but I'd wager the Swoop that it was."

Jon found that he now had no other choice but to sit. If Sarralyn's kidnapper was not only flying but flying by hurrok, that complicated matters considerably. People travelling by foot or horse could be tracked; people travelling through the air could not. If they had someone who could sense Immortals then they would stand a chance of finding this hurrok, but the only person who could do that was Daine. And hurroks were _fast_: the kidnapper would probably arrive in Scanra before Daine and Numair.

"This changes things. Should we get in touch with Numair?" asked Alanna.

"Not yet. He'll be flying at the moment and after that he'll need to rest. You know what he's like – if we tell him about the hurrok he'll fly all the way to Scanra without a break. No," Jon shook his head. "We won't tell him just yet. He said he would get in touch when they make camp for the night; we'll tell him then."

* * *

When Numair finally caught up to Daine she was waiting for him with a thick blanket. He landed and resumed his human form, spluttering and gasping for breath. It had been several months since he had taken his hawk form and his body had been unprepared for such a long flight. Daine came swiftly to kneel at his side, wrapping the coarse blanket around his shoulders. "It's the best I could find," she said apologetically. "There were no clothes nearby, and I didn't want to risk wandering too far away in case you missed me."

As soon as he had recovered enough of his breath to stand, Daine wrapped an arm around his waist and led him to a bedroll. He vaguely registered that the bedroll was out of place as Daine couldn't have transported it, but that thought quickly deserted him as she thrust a canteen of icy water into his hands. As he gulped greedily, Daine began to cook strips of what looked like rabbit over a small fire. "I thought you didn't eat game," he said between swallows.

Daine's smile was bitter. "Things have been difficult recently. We couldn't afford the luxury of being picky with our food. But never mind that," she said, leaving the rabbit to cook in a tiny, battered pot and turning to face Numair. "What are you doing here?"

Numair lowered the canteen and carefully replaced the stopper, all the while avoiding Daine's eye. How could he tell her what had happened? For seven years she had cared for their children. She had entrusted them to him for no more than a month and he had failed within the first couple of hours. "Please try to remain calm," he said, then regretted it immediately as he saw her tense. "When I tell you what has happened you will want to leave immediately, but I must ask that you wait for an hour while I recover my Gift."

"Whatever it is, just tell me." When Numair still hesitated she added, "You're frightening me."

"Sarra has been taken."

For a moment Numair thought that she hadn't heard. She stared at him blankly, as if waiting for him to speak. Then she seemed to crumple: her legs gave way beneath her and she began to fall. Numair jerked to his feet, not caring that his own legs were still weak and that the blanket slipped from his shoulders, and caught Daine before she could hit the ground. "Daine?" he said urgently, guiding her to the bedroll and setting her down carefully on the thin cloth. It wasn't much, but it was more comfortable than the hard ground. "Daine, please, say something."

"How?" she asked, her voice so faint that it was barely there.

"It happened in the early hours of the morning. The guard keeping watch over them was murdered, and we found an empty phial of wakeflower near the bed. Rikash and Kitten didn't hear or see anything."

"We have to leave," said Daine, although she showed no signs of moving.

"In an hour. I just need some time to recover my Gift."

"I can go on alone. I've looked after them on my own for a long time."

This stung, but he couldn't deny that it was true. "I believe, and Jon agrees, that Sarra is being taken to Scanra. If that is the case, you stand a much better chance of finding her with me there to help. And if they plan to manipulate you using her then you need help. You can't fight them and protect Sarra."

Daine stared blankly forwards, offering no protest at having to wait. This lack of reaction worried Numair. Daine's first instinct was always to jump into action, to fight and defend those she cared about. Without warning, she buried her face in her hands and burst into tears. He had seen her cry a lot over the last few days, but not like this. She sounded more like a wounded animal than a person. Not knowing what to do, not even knowing whether his comfort would be welcome, he wrapped an arm tentatively around her shoulders. There was an uncomfortable moment when she stiffened before she was leaning into him, sobbing into his shoulder.

Eventually she quietened down and pulled away, drying her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "It's just with everything that's happened recently..."

"It's a lot to take in," Numair finished for her. "Don't be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for."

Daine rose and went to the place where Numair's blanket had fallen. "We'll leave soon?" she asked as she wrapped it around him.

"An hour at the most."

About to pull away, Daine paused as she noticed the locket around his neck. She brushed her fingers over it gently. "You weren't wearing this last night," she murmured. Numair opened the catch to let her see the curl of hair inside. He didn't hesitate as he had done with Jon: Daine must have known what he would do with it when she left it. "It's a focus?" she asked. When he nodded she said, "You didn't waste any time."

"I didn't want to lose you again."

Daine winced and pulled away from the locket as if burned, guilt flooding her features. She turned her attention back to the rabbit meat, prodding it rather uselessly with a wooden fork. "I didn't mean to leave forever," she said softly.

"Pardon?"

"When I left all those years ago – I didn't mean to leave forever."

"Then why didn't you come back until now?"

Daine sighed. "It's a long story."

"We have time."

For a moment Daine looked reluctant and Numair thought that she would refuse. Then she sighed again, this time in defeat, and forked the strips of rabbit meat from the pot onto a tiny plate. Thrusting the plate into Numair's hands, she took a seat next to him. "Is it so hard to begin?" Numair asked, and for a moment he was transported back eleven years to the day when Daine shared the secret of her 'madness' with him and Onua. From the wry grin on her face, he surmised that Daine was thinking of the same thing.

"I just needed time," she began. "It hurt to think about you with another woman, it hurt a _lot. _Especially as I was carrying your children at the time. I suppose I thought if I had enough time I would get used to the idea, although looking back that seems fair stupid. After eight years it still hurt. I made my way north, helping at villages that had been damaged during the war. When my bump started to get big I decided it was time to go home. That's when it went wrong," she drew a shaky breath, running her fingers through her short hair.

Numair wrapped an arm around her waist and hugged her to him. "What happened?" he asked gently.

"Bandits," Daine said grimly, wincing as Numair's grip tightened around her automatically. "A Scanran raiding party. I couldn't shape shift because of the babies, and you know my bow is no good at close range. As bandits go, they weren't too bad. They fed me and didn't hurt me too much. It was because of the babies, you see. They planned to take them from me and sell them as slaves in Scanra."

Shuddering, Numair said, "If this is too painful-"

Daine shook her head. "No. I've never talked about this before. I think it's about time."

"How did you get free?"

"The People helped me. It was hard – there weren't many of them and they were terrified of the bandits. But once they heard the bandits planned to steal my young they were angry enough to fight them. By the time I escaped we were already deep in Scanra and I had no idea how to get home. Food was scarce and I couldn't shift to find a village. I think I was half mad when Luka found me, or at least more People than two-legger.

"Giving birth nearly killed me. I _would _have died if ma hadn't been able to come. For a year after the twins came I was too weak to travel, and after that..." she shrugged uncomfortably. "I thought you'd probably married the woman you were in love with. I couldn't see where we would fit in your life, thought I'd only be ruining things for you if I appeared out of the blue."

"I never stopped loving you, or wishing you would come back," said Numair, his voice thick. When Daine looked up she glimpsed unshed tears in his eyes. Wincing, he added, "I did have other lovers, I won't lie to you about that. But I never loved any of them."

Daine rubbed her eyes, sore from days of weeping. "What are we going to do?" she asked quietly. "When we have Sarra back and I've dealt with Ranulf and we're back home?"

Numair hesitated but, encouraged by her description of Tortall as home, said, "I know it's a lot to ask and I know it would take a long time to build, but I want a life with you and the children. I couldn't ask for anything more."


End file.
